Slytherin's Final Gift
by GhostOfYoda
Summary: When Harry Potter returns to school, he finds that although his actions have gained him many friends, they have also made him enemies with a lot of people; some of whom have the ability to strike back.
1. Reunions

Disclaimer: I acknowledge that I own none of these characters.  
  
Authorial Note: I don't usually do fanfics, so I'm afraid this is my first. However, I still hope it is enjoyable, and if you manage to get to the end, please review it (and if you fail to reach the end, please review and inform me why not!)  
  
Dedication: This chapter is not dedicated to Chris. Thanks for nothing, *****!  
  
Chapter One: Reunions  
  
As Harry Potter stepped onboard the Hogwart's Express, accompanied by his close friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, it began to move, whisking away the groggy remains of the summer holidays, deposited on platform 9 ¾.  
  
"Shall we go grab a seat?" asked Ron, eagerly.  
  
Harry frowned slightly in confusion, "Don't you two have to do prefect stuff?"  
  
Ron laughed. "We're making the newbies do the rounds first."  
  
"Plus, Ginny's already saved us a place." Hermione interjected, placing something into her pocket.  
  
"How do you know that?" Harry asked, wondering how Hermione could've acquired this news when she had been standing next to him for the past twenty minutes.  
  
"She texted me." Hermione smiled.  
  
"Wait a sec…" Ron pondered, "I thought felly… telephones didn't work around magical places, like this train…"  
  
"Oh, she didn't text me on a phone!" Hermione stated, pulling a small roll of parchment out of her pocket. She tapped it several times with her wand, and spots of vibrant green ink bled out onto the paper, before shrinking to form words.  
  
"I'm in carriage #17 at the end – Gin"  
  
"Cool!" declared Ron, as he marvelled at the once again blank piece of paper. "But how could she afford one of those? They cost a dragon!"  
  
"Perhaps," Harry commented dryly, "It is because she doesn't spend every sickle that falls into her hands on chocolate frogs."  
  
Laughing amongst themselves, the trio proceeded down the corridor of the gently rattling train. However, half way towards their destination, they were distracted by a muffled, yet familiar drawling voice – Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Of course father doesn't think this will be a problem…"  
  
"Wha…" Ron started to ask Harry, but Hermione and Harry simultaneously silenced him with a hand motion.  
  
"Yes… the 'going away present' he's left for Dumbledore is now safely installed under the common room."  
  
Hermione gave Harry a dark look, which he returned solemnly. Whatever Malfoy was planning, it could not be good. Ever since he had put his father in jail, Harry was sure Malfoy had been plotting against him with redoubled efforts.  
  
However, whilst this silent exchange was going on, Crabbe, one of Malfoy's muscular cronies, had spotted them, and pointed them out. Malfoy instantly rose from his seat in angry glee, and slid open the compartment door to stand face to face with Harry.  
  
"Well, well…" he began, looking sideways to catch Crabbe and Goyle's eyes, who instantly began to guffaw, as if following a cue. "If it isn't our favourite celebrity-of-the-hour, the good noble honourable, his excellency, Harry Potter."  
  
Harry said nothing, but he noticed Ron, who had his eyes closed, and was slowly counting under his breath.  
  
"Enjoy listening to our conversation?" Malfoy continued, "The drivel of your mudblood and muggle-loving fans not interesting enough for you?"  
  
Hermione remained silent at this grievous insult to her, but Ron's fingers were now twitching towards his pocketed wand. However, Harry was the first to retort to these insults.  
  
"How's your father?" he asked coolly.  
  
There was another half minute of blazing silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic beating of the train over the tracks. Harry's and Malfoy's eyes connected, shooting white blisters of heat at each other.  
  
"How's yours?" Malfoy finally sneered in reply, and then burst into an almost manic laugh. After a couple of seconds, Crabbe and Goyle joined in.  
  
"Oh really!" Hermione exclaimed. "I can't be bothered with this."  
  
She turned round and walked off. Ron followed suite, leaving Harry behind.  
  
"You better run off to join the mudblood too, Potter." Malfoy spat. "I'll be seeing you around."  
  
Harry did not reply, but maintaining his composition, he turned and moved away to regroup with his friends.  
  
"Where's thingy?" Ron snapped in greeting to his sister, as he entered compartment seventeen.  
  
"Dean has gone to get drinks" Ginny replied.  
  
Harry gave her a quizzical look, but it was Ron who offered his explanation bitterly.  
  
"He's her boyfriend."  
  
They took their seats, Ron next to an abandoned pile of coats, with Harry at his side, and Hermione on the other side next to Ginny.  
  
"Malfoy's planning something." Hermione stated simply.  
  
"Oh?" Ginny asked, but as she was about to be answered, Dean walked in.  
  
"Could you get us some more drinks?" Ginny quickly asked, before he could sit down.  
  
Slightly crestfallen, but without stumbling in his stride, without a word, Dean span around and promptly walked back out the door.  
  
When the sliding door had clicked into place, Hermione began to giggle, but Harry then repeated what Malfoy had said.  
  
"Any ideas what this 'gift' could be?" Ginny asked.  
  
"None whatsoever." Harry replied bluntly.  
  
"We could inform the DA of this… have a meeting or something!" suggested Ron, eager to participate in the discussion.  
  
"No…" replied Harry coldly, "If Malfoy thinks we're all watching him, then it will be much harder for us to find out an stop him from completing whatever plan his father seems to have arranged for him."  
  
"Very wise, Harry." The voice of Luna Lovegood floated ethereally around the room.  
  
Ron jumped out of his seat, and it took all his restraint to resist screaming.  
  
"Where are you?" he gasped.  
  
"She's under the coats." Ginny explained.  
  
"Don't… ever… do that… again!" Ron complained, panting.  
  
Hermione, however, had no sympathy for Ron's nerves. "Why are you under there, Luna?"  
  
There was a slight rustle, as Luna replied in a matter-of-fact voice, "I'm protecting myself from the Welsh Daytime Soul Vampires."  
  
Hermione snorted, and Ginny added, "Apparently they can only attack when the victim is in daylight… but I wouldn't let her block the window."  
  
Ron sat down again, still frowning. "Still…" he began to say, but then decided against further complaints.  
  
The rest of the journey passed without much fuss. Since Harry, Hermione and Ron had just finished their OWL year, there was not even any last minute homework to attend to.  
  
However, when the two prefects left to patrol the corridor, and Ginny and Dean had wandered off to do something else, Harry was left practically on his own, accompanied only by the periodic strokes of a magazine page being turned over from under the coats. His thoughts drifted to Sirius.  
  
Why had he been so foolish? He always had to play the hero. Why did he always assume he was right, and do what he thought was necessary, without even considering the opinions and ideas of his friends, all of whom were wiser than him. He had played the game right into Voldemort's hand, and the price he had paid for his arrogance was too great.  
  
However, before his guilty mood could fall to a level as black as the fading sky around him, the train began to shriek to a halt. Soon he was surrounded by the refreshingly familiar platform of Hogsmede Station.  
  
As Harry's companions joined him once more, he heard Hagrid's distinct voice summoning the first years in the crowd towards him. As the group passed, he waved to them, cordially.  
  
The three mounted one of the thestral driven carriages, and relaxed onto the red leather bench inside."  
  
You know what?" asked Ron chuckling.  
  
Harry turned to him.  
  
"This must be the first time we're going up to the castle all together, with Hagrid present, you not regarded as a lying attention seeker, or me about to get expelled."  
  
However, when they reached the huge oak doors of the castle, Snape was waiting to contradict Ron's foolishly optimistic words.  
  
"Potter. Granger. Come with me, now!" 


	2. Enter the Potion's Master

Authorial Note: Thank you all for reviewing chapter one so quickly, and so pleasantly!  
  
Dedication: A chapter with a lot of Harry, Hermione and Snape? Even though she couldn't come up with a name for the potion, at least she tried, so I'm afraid I'll have to dedicate this one to Rach!  
  
Chapter 2 – Enter The Potion's Master.  
  
Harry and Hermione followed Snape through the brightly lit entrance hall, and down into the gloomy corridor where the Slytherin common room, and the potion's lab lay. The yellowish torches cast a dreary light onto Harry's face which was wrinkled with nervous confusion.  
  
He hadn't done anything, had he? Even if he hadn't that still wouldn't stop Snape.  
  
With a vicious crack, Snape burst open the door to the empty potions lab, which was illuminated only by a dusty set of candles defiantly eroding the dark around Snape's desk. However, Snape didn't slow down, when he reached his desk, but instead continued to walk past it. Harry gave Hermione a quizzical look, but she continued to stare ahead at Snape.  
  
"Stand here." He snapped with his back to them, gesturing with one long finger at a particularly dusty section of the wall. Harry and Hermione obliged instantly.  
  
"Battuo hiscis" he declared, tapping his wand against the wall three times.  
  
Instantly, the wall began to shift, the grey bricks shrinking and moving away to reveal a hole in the wall. Beyond was a huge circular chamber, swimming in a wavering blue light. Several huge cauldrons pressed against the far wall were bubbling mysterious substances that emitted peculiar smells. A ring of blackboard circulated the top of the wall, on which complex animated diagrams fluttered.  
  
Salazar Slytherin must have had a secret passage fetish, Harry decided.  
  
However, as spectacular as the laboratory was, Harry still wondered why he had been summoned there. Unfortunately, when he walked through the door, he found himself in more unpleasant company. Malfoy was standing next to a shining silver cauldron.  
  
"How did he get here so fast?" Hermione asked under her breath.  
  
Malfoy, however having heard this, replied, "Unlike Gryffindors, Granger, Slytherins pay attention to alternate routes through the castle."  
  
Snape waved his hands towards two empty desk-cauldron workspaces, and then cleared his throat.  
  
"You have all decided to take potions this year." Snape declared.  
  
Hermione raised her eyebrow at Harry, but he looked away, avoiding her eyes.  
  
"Whilst for some of you," Snape nodded towards Malfoy, "this was a good choice; for others, it was unwise and against my best will. Unfortunately, the headmaster took it into his hands to intervene, and I have been instructed to teach those who wish to pursue potions."  
  
Snape turned to face Harry.  
  
"However, this is NOT an excuse for you to give anything other than your best. If there is any hint of laziness, hooliganism, or rioting in this class, you will be out before you will be able to open your mouths to protest."  
  
Snape waved his wand, and the spinning diagrams stood still, and expanded in size, so that the text around them was readable.  
  
"These are instructions for the fabrication and brewing of the Autohedros Potion, best known as a restoration draft. I want three sets of this potion brewed before I return from the frivolous affairs going on upstairs."  
  
As Snape left the classroom, his black robes billowing formidably behind him, Harry turned to mutter to Hermione"  
  
"An extra potions lesson? On the first day? In fact, it's not even the first day yet! We're still on holiday!"  
  
"Well, they are the NEWTs." Hermione replied simply. "Plus, this potion may come in useful. It's definitely one worth knowing."  
  
Harry stole a dark glance at Malfoy at the opposite end of the room, who was busy reading the instructions around him. "Well, we won't be the only ones who may find this useful." he finally declared.  
  
The classroom fell into silence as Harry gazed in awe at the complexness of potion Snape had requested. However, once the initial shock of the ingredient list had passed, Harry relaxed a bit. He could do this. Extracting the retina from a basalisk eye was nothing compared to some of the complex cookery Aunt Petunia had forced him to do over the summer for Dudley. Scale of manticore? That's was easier than cutting off the fat from Dudley's bacon.  
  
Within an hour of silent concentration, Harry's potion was bubbling steadily in a silver cauldron, the rose bubbles rising from the bottom popping hypnotically on the top. Malfoy, silent, on the other side of the classroom was still extracting the vilia from the dragon intestine. Hermione's masterpiece, however, was finished. Winking at Harry, trying not to draw Malfoy's attention, she quietly drew a phial from her bag, and scooped in a small amount of the concocanation, and placed it in an inside pocket of her robes.  
  
Just as Harry replaced the cystral vial of spider venom onto one of the huge shelves, Minerva McGonagall, the transfiguration teacher, and also the head of Gryffindor House moved quietly through the door.  
  
"Professor McGonagall!" exclaimed Hermione, taking her eyes off her work once again.  
  
"Good evening, Miss Granger." McGonagall replied, walking over to the centre of the room.  
  
"I can't believe Professor Snape made us do potions on the first evening!" Harry complained, searching for support.  
  
"Yeh!" Hermione added, "I wanted to view the sorting. It's an important school tradition. Also, I was going to ask Dumbledore to make an announcement about S.P.E.W."  
  
McGonagall picked up a clear cup, and dipped it into Malfoy's cauldron, and lifted it out, filled now with a rose liquid. With a flick of her wrist, she through it down the back of her throat, and gulped it. A blue aura fuzzed around her, obscuring her from view. Suddenly, with a crackling hiss, the blue mould shifted itself, and vanished, leaving Snape standing where it had been.  
  
"Very good, Malfoy." he commented dryly, before turning to Harry and Hermione. "If you do not wish to participate in potions, there is a door to this classroom. I trust you have enough intelligence to find it. Go on; feel free to leave at any time."  
  
"Sorry, professor." Hermione mumbled.  
  
Snape, not quite content that he had humiliated his most hated pupils enough, walked over to Harry's potion.  
  
"What do you call this, Potter?" he spat.  
  
"A Restoration Draft, sir." Harry replied, staring Snape straight in the eyes.  
  
"Can you read me what colour it EXPLICITALLY says on the board?" Snape demanded.  
  
"Pink." Harry replied, looking at his potion, which seemed to match all specifications.  
  
"Potter, this potion is not pink; it is fuchsia. No marks."  
  
Harry's fists clenched.  
  
"Not a very good start to the year, is it?" Snape asked, moving on to Hermione before Harry could respond.  
  
Snape took another cup from the table, and swilled it around Hermione's creation, before raising it to his lips, and taking a long sip.  
  
Nothing happened. Snape was already in his original form.  
  
"Oh dear, Miss Granger." he remarked. "You're potion doesn't seem to have done anything. Perhaps you made a mistake?"  
  
He walked back to the centre of the room, and banished the instructions from the walls. "Now be gone. The feast has finished; you may return straight to your dormitories."  
  
  
  
Scowling, Harry and Hermione climbed the staircase back to Gryffindor tower, where they met Ron, walking slowly up the stairs, licking away scrap of chocolate pudding that had been dirtying his lips.  
  
"Best. Feast. Ever!" he declared, slapping his abdomen.  
  
"Oh shut up." Hermione snapped, her stomach growling angrily.  
  
"What took you so long?" Ron inquired.  
  
"Potions lesson." Harry replied simply.  
  
Ron laughed, "You're doing extra potions? Come off it!"  
  
Harry and Hermione both remained silent, at this insult added to injury.  
  
"Hang on..." Ron continued. "I thought you need an outstanding at OWL to study potions for NEWT."  
  
"You do." Hermione commented acidly, her nose detecting the faint roast of ham, now gone, in the distance.  
  
"You never told me, Harry!" Ron exclaimed.  
  
Harry blushed, but then explained, "It turns out Snape has been marking me down since the very first lesson."  
  
The three ascended another stair case, and the fat lady loomed into sight at the end of the long red-carpeted corridor.  
  
"I'm so hungry!" Hermione finally exclaimed.  
  
Ron thought for a second, before asking, "Surely you have some chocolate frogs left lying 'round your pockets?"  
  
Hermione frowned. "Nope. I spent all my money on the port-a-scroll."  
  
Ron laughed, as he spoke the password, "Decorus Maximus" to the fat lady.  
  
However, when the portrait had swung open to reveal what was inside, the smile was quickly wiped off his face. 


	3. Welcome Back to Hogwarts

Authorial Note: Thanks to all who are reading, I'm glad you've not given up on me in disgust yet! Very many thanks to everyone who has reviewed! It's for people like you that I bother to write! I'm afraid this chapter is a bit shorter than my last; but, well, I hope that it goes for quality, not quantity! ;)  
  
Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to Laura; since she was the only other person not to skive latin today. *shakes fist*  
  
Chapter 3 - Welcome Back to Hogwarts  
  
It was chaos. Absolute and utter mayhem. A wall of noise forced its way through the portrait hole to assault Ron, Hermione and Harry's ears. Flashes of multi-coloured light flashed repetitively across their eyes. A crowd of catcallers were throbbing in a ring around the source of commotion. Dean was standing in the middle, his want raised high above his head, screaming curses – some more magical than others.  
  
Harry looked up. Neville was hanging by the back of his robe, hoisted onto the large chandelier in the middle of the room. Ron, however, was staring at Ginny, whose arm was being tightly squeezed by Dean's free hand. She was evidently trying to distance herself from Dean, and shot Ron an apologetic glance.  
  
"Stop this, or..." Ron began to say, his voice barely denting the shell of interest in the one-sided duel.   
  
Hermione, however, interrupted his meager attempts at fulfilling his duties as a prefect, and brother, and with a elegant flick of her wand muttered, "Sonorus."  
  
Taking a deep breath, she yelled, "SILENCE!"  
  
There was.  
  
"IF YOU DO NOT CLEAR OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW, I WILL PUT EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU INTO DETENTION."  
  
With ringing ears, the stunned throng filtered through the various doorways back to their own parts of the towers. However, Dean wouldn't move. Still holding on Ginny, he turned towards the trio, with his wand. A furious tear of sweat was sliding down the side of his face. Ginny was shaking in fright.  
  
"Stupefy!" he yelled.  
  
Hermione only just managed to duck, and raising her wand she jabbed a bolt of blue-green light at him. He jerked to the side, and it grazed Ginny across the cheek.  
  
"Watch it!" Ron yelled.  
  
Harry stepped forwards, and began to yell "Expelli...", before Hermione pulled his wand down. He shot her a confused glare, but she said,  
  
"Think about it, Harry... what has he got in his hands?!"  
  
However, he did not have time to reply, as another red bolt flew from the tip of Dean's wand.  
  
"Protego!" Harry, Hermione and Ron yelled at once, instinctively. A huge purple barrier rose around them, and split the stunning spell into small fragments of energy, one of which bounced back, and hit Dean on the forehead.  
  
Instantly, he let go of Ginny and stumbled away. Taking a quick look at his surroundings, his wand now lying in his limp hands, he opened his mouth to say something, but then decided against it. Shaking, he turned and fled to the dormitory. Ginny, having been freed, ran off too.  
  
  
  
"What's going on in here?" A new voice – McGonagalls's – asked. "Who was responsible for all that noise?"  
  
Hermione, subtly performing the counter charm turned around.  
  
"Nothing, professor." she smiled sweetly.  
  
McGonagall examined the trio suspiciously for a couple of seconds. Neville's robe creaked forebodingly above them, but it remained unnoticed.  
  
"Well... goodnight then." she finally commented, impressed by the apparent keenness the students had shown of getting a good night's rest.  
  
She slipped through the portrait hole, and prompted by another tell-tale creak, took another glance back. Hermione waved cordially, hoping that Neville didn't suddenly drop down into her line of sight. McGonagall bit her lip, and walked off, the fat lady swinging back into place behind her.  
  
"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry called instantly, allowing Neville to float safely to the ground. "What happened?" he asked.  
  
"Didn't you hear Dean?" Ron asked coolly, but Neville replied first.  
  
"It makes no sense!"  
  
"What do you mean? Are you saying that..." Harry began.  
  
"Are you after Ginny as well?" Ron snapped across in interrogation.  
  
"No! Of course not!" Neville denied vehemently.  
  
"Why not?" Ron continued. "You think she's not pretty?"  
  
"No! I mean yes... I mean... wait... I don't know!" Neville finally gave up in terror. Ron was about to continue, when Hermione silenced him.  
  
"Quiet a second, Ron. Neville, do you mean to say that Dean thought he heard you say something that you didn't say?"  
  
Neville nodded.  
  
"But Dean isn't the kind of person to hear voices, though..." Ron began to mutter.  
  
"And Neville isn't the kind of person to tell lies." Hermione retorted, attempting to defuse another potential fight.  
  
"Maybe you should go upstairs and speak to Ginny." Suggested Harry, taking advantage of Ron's speechlessness.  
  
"Good idea." she stated, and moved towards the girl's staircase. Ron began to move also.  
  
"I'm coming too."  
  
"Oh?" Asked Hermione. "And how do you intend to climb the stairs?"  
  
Ron stopped and scowled. Hermione vanished out of sight.  
  
"I'm going to bed." he eventually conceded.  
  
"Me too." Neville quickly added, having waited for a chance to get escort past Dean's bed in the circular chamber above.  
  
"I'm going to wait for Hermione to come back." Harry stated, moving back towards the arrangement of assorted chairs and cushions.  
  
"Well... 'night." Ron declared, turning around to abandon Harry in the dying light of the flickering red fire.  
  
"What did you just say?" Harry asked in a steel-tipped voice, as Ron's hands were positioned around the ornate griffin doorknob.  
  
"Nothing." Ron declared, a crisp note of innocent honesty lingering in his words.  
  
Harry was not convinced.  
  
"Err... Harry." Neville spoke softly, "He didn't say anything."  
  
"I could've sworn you called me a..."  
  
"I didn't!" Ron exclaimed. "Harry, mate! You really need to get something to eat; the hunger seems to be affecting your mind."  
  
From his pocket, he drew a packet of salted magical kumquats and threw them across the room. Without thinking, Harry caught them with his seeker reflexes. Ron closed the door behind him as he left, the oaken slam echoing around the eerie common room. Harry lent onto the stiff back of a huge armchair and continued waiting.  
  
  
  
"She's taking a long time." A voice in Harry's ear told him. "She's probably gone upstairs to bitch about you, you know?"  
  
Harry shook his head, attempting to drive away the itching words.  
  
"They all blame you. For his death."  
  
"Shut up!" Harry called out at the empty room.  
  
"Shut up, shut up, shut up." the walls replied, amplifying his protests.  
  
"Yesss." the voice spoke, clearly now. "They all wish you'd just shut up."  
  
Harry span around, only to see the moving blackness of the poorly illuminated room looming behind him.  
  
"Shut up... shut up..." the walls kept whispering.  
  
Harry moved towards the exit. He heard slow breathing from behind him. The room seemed to be shrinking, sucking him back in. It had not finished with him yet.  
  
Suddenly, he exploded into a run. Bursting through the door, he rushed up the stairs. The ringing silence kept pounding furiously through his skull.  
  
When he had eventually settled himself into his wide four-post bed, he found it hard to muster the will to close his eyes. Eventually, sleep claimed him, as he pondered how all his happiness and excitement had managed to vanish so quickly, with all the anti-apparition spells placed over Hogwarts. 


	4. A Flying Start to the Day

Authorial Note: I know I'm updating rather quickly at the moment, but for me, when it rains, it pours! If you think that I should slow down, just tell me :p. If not, enjoy! And don't worry, Rhyanna, you will get your "four words" soon enough.  
  
Dedication: This chapter is for my wonderful reviewers! I love you guys!  
  
  
  
Chapter 4 - A Flying Start to the Day  
  
Harry didn't rest well that night. As soon as the grey morning light began to creep slowly across the sky, Harry slid out out bed. Pulling in his robes, he made his way down to the main hall, which had already been lavished with a breakfast feast. A sweeping houseelf, having spotted Harry, bowed apologetically before scuttling out of sight. Taking a seat besides a crusty mountain of buttered toast, Harry waited. The bold song of a wood pigeon rang sporadically through the large windowless openings above the staff table, where the owls usually entered.  
  
"Up early this morning, Harry?" inquired Dumbledore from behind him.  
  
"Yeah." Harry replied with a forced laugh.  
  
"You might as well tuck in whilst you still have the choice." Dumbledore advised. "A while ago, I really fancied having BBQ beans for breakfast, but I was not quite adventurous enough. One morning, I decided that 'today would be the day I have beans.' However, I had woken up late, and when I came down, they had all been consumed before my arrival."  
  
Harry tried to take this wisdom to heart, but his thoughts kept slipping to the previous night's events. As Dumbledore walked onwards to the staff table, he thought about asking him.  
  
"No, it'd be silly." He told himself. "It was just me feeling guilty again. There's no reason to be alarmed. It was just tiredness and an overactive imagination."  
  
It had been so real.  
  
Fortunately, it was not long before several more students drifted groggily into the hall, including Hermione and Ron.  
  
"Mornin'." Ron greeted, friendlily, instantly reaching out for a chocolate croissant, and stuffing it into his mouth.  
  
"Hey." Harry responded reflexively.  
  
"Where did you go last night?" Hermione asked. "I came downstairs, and you'd gone."  
  
"I was tired, so I went to bed." Harry lied.  
  
"Muah buff innyun dea?" Ron asked, his words blurred by the flurry of food in his mouth.  
  
"What?" Hermione asked, disgusted at his table manners.  
  
Ron took a large gulp, and tried again. "What about Ginny and Dean?"  
  
It took a split second for Hermione to work out what he was asking. When she did, she snapped in reply, "Ask her yourself. She's your sister."  
  
Ron scowled, but the sudden apparition of a plate of bacon prevented the situation from escalating into an argument.  
  
"Anyone seen Dean this morning?" Harry asked, as he forked a couple of large waffles onto his plate, the previous night's hunger now raging again.  
  
"Nah." Ron replied. "I think he went to the hospital wing with a headache."  
  
"Can't imagine why." Harry replied darkly.  
  
Hermione began to say something, but her voice spluttered into hoarse coughs.  
  
"Sore throat, Miss Granger?" asked Professor McGonagall, winking, before handing the group their timetables.  
  
  
  
A reasonable time later, the three friends made their way outside to attend their first lesson, Care of Magical Creatures. Hagrid was standing in front of his cabin, waiting.  
  
"Mornin'." he greeted, happily. "Yer'll like what we're doing today."  
  
Hagrid's approval could only mean a bad thing, Harry thought. Terrible visions of teeth and claws drifted into Hermione's mind.  
  
"So..." Hagrid said, as the other students made their way down from the castle. "How are you lot?"  
  
"Fine." they all responded, without thinking.  
  
Hagrid, however, seemed convinced by their half-hearted affirmation, and didn't pursue with any further questions. Within a couple of minutes, the other students arrived: Hannah Abbot, Ernie MacMillan and a couple of Ravenclaw girls, who Harry didn't know.  
  
"Now," Hagrid called to the group, "Before we do anything, can yer give me your permission slips."  
  
They all complied, handing over small brown slips of parchment. Even Harry had no problems getting his Aunt and Uncle to sign; they were all too eager to increase Harry's exposure to dangerous, and hopefully lethal beasts. They had taken the view, the bigger the fangs, the better.  
  
"Alright." Hagrid declared, shoving the slips into his pocket. "Now some of you won't remember what we're doing today..."  
  
Harry was sure they would. Hagrid's lessons were often, unfortunately, unforgettable.  
  
"But, we touched on them before." Hagrid finished as he lead them behind his cabin to the pasture.  
  
"Hippogriffs!" everyone exclaimed in unison, as three majestic beasts entered their sight.  
  
"Good!" Hagrid praised the class. "That's right. Now, who remembers how... blimey!"  
  
One of the hippogriffs had cantered over to Harry, his grey fur instantly recognizable. Buckbeak. The elegant animal bowed, and Harry returned the gesture, before reaching out a hand to stroke his feathered neck.  
  
"Well... er... class." Hagrid continued, slightly stunned, "That's how you greet a hippogriff. Umm... off you go then!"  
  
The class dispersed to the opposite end of the enclosure, leaving Harry, Ron, Hermione and Hagrid around Buckbeak.  
  
"Wow." Hagrid declared, impressed. "That's the first time Beaky has bowed to anyone since, well... you know."  
  
Harry understood, Buckbeak's yellow eagle eyes meeting with his own.  
  
"Should've pocketed a sausage from breakfast for him." Ron remarked, keeping his distance from the powerful animal.  
  
Hagrid moved away, "You're doing OK, then; I better go and give the others a hand."  
  
"Wait!" Harry called, a sudden idea drifting into his head. "Can I ride him?"  
  
Hagrid paused for a second. "Well, Harry; I don't know. I don't want any accidents - this is only the first lesson."  
  
"Ah come on." Ron pleaded. "It's Sirius's hippogriff - it's what he would've wanted."  
  
Harry felt a slight twang in the base of his stomach at the direct mention of his godfather's name.  
  
"Oh, OK then." Hagrid eventually conceded, before quickly moving off to rescue Ernie from a hippogriff which was becoming increasingly agitated.  
  
Harry bowed again, and Buckbeak lowered his front, inviting a rider to mount.  
  
"Who's coming with me?" Harry asked.  
  
"Umm... It's Ron's turn." Hermione replied very quickly, rubbing her legs absentmindedly from the memory of the discomfort caused by her last trip. Ron, however, was keen to participate.  
  
Harry climbed on, and placed his arms firmly around Buckbeak's thick neck. Ron followed, gripping Harry. Ron nodded, and Harry lent forwards and whispered something into the hippogriff's ears. The boys felt Buckbeak tense underneath them. With a liberating screech, he pushed down upon the ground, spraying clods of mud into the air. To the sound of "oohs" from several of the girls below, the noble companion of Harry's godfather shot into the sky.  
  
The cool breezes rushed into Harry's face. This was where he belonged. The people on the ground shrank to insignificance, and the clouds began to mask the hurts abandoned on the dirty floor a third of a mile beneath.  
  
"Brilliant!" Ron shouted, his words slightly muffled by the wind.  
  
For a hour, which stretched into an eternity, the two of them swooped and spirals in an awesome silence, interrupted only by the powerful beat of Buckbeak's wings. Eventually, Ron lent forwards and informed Harry of a plan, which made Harry smile.  
  
With a friendly pat, Harry turned Buckbeak towards the castle, and they dived, the high speed bringing stinging tears to the boys' eyes. Ten feet away from a high window of a classroom, they halted, Buckbeak spreading his wings wide to brake.  
  
Draco Malfoy was inside by the window, attending a History of Magic lesson. Buckbeak instantly recognised him as the boy who had insulted him three years earlier. With a quiet squawk, he tapped on the glass three times, and then backed away out of sight. Malfoy looked around nothing. The mischievous hippogriff tapped again. Malfoy, thoroughly confused, span around again, to face an empty window. Binns, the ghost teacher had not noticed, but was continuing to lecture the practically snoozing class.  
  
Buckbeak tapped for a third time, but this time stayed in sight. Malfoy span round, but turned back again thinking that there was still nothing there. Realisation hit him, and he took a double-take. The hippogriff opened his beak in an angry caw, and Malfoy fell out of his chair in fright, to the amusement of those around him in the classroom.  
  
Laughing, Harry and Ron flew back down to the ground, where Hermione was talking to Hagrid.  
  
"That was amazing, mate!" Ron exclaimed, as he dismounted. Harry was still laughing.  
  
"Yeah." he replied.  
  
  
  
The boys related their prank to Hermione as they burst loudly through the door to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Unfortunately, to their grave misfortune, they had forgotten to find out who their teacher was.  
  
"Detention." 


	5. Serious Lessons Begin

Authorial Note: Thanks for keeping up with me on my story! I hope you continue enjoying it; and if for any reason you're not, please don't hesistate to tell me. Of course, if your perfectly content with it, I'd like to hear that too! Thanks to everyone who pointed out an error, before - I appreciate your CONSTANT VILEGENCE!  
  
  
  
Dedication: This chapter is for Susan D and Achin 2 Lick Clays Neck, two reviewers who have been with me on this one since the beginning! Again, I can't stress my thanks enough!  
  
  
  
Chapter 5 - Serious Lessons Begin  
  
  
  
It was Snape – again! Harry should've seen it coming from a mile off. Who else would take a job, which no one could deny was cursed? In fact, the job was so unlucky that one applicant, having accepted the offer, was promptly locked in a trunk for nine months. Only a bitterly determined, obsessive, slightly masochistic pragmatist would even dream of taking the place. Snape had been trying for years.  
  
"Disrupting lessons, are we?" Snape asked coolly.  
  
"No sir…" Harry began, but Snape cut him off angrily.  
  
"Don't lie to me!" He hissed. "Malfoy came to see me straight away."  
  
Harry had no answer for this, so Snape continued.  
  
"You and Weasley will join me this evening outside the potions laboratory to complete your punishment."  
  
Harry opened his mouth to ask which laboratory he was expected to go to, but Snape shot him an angry glare.   
  
"The only potions laboratory." He spat. "You will now take your seats."  
  
The first part of the lesson was spent taking notes about the shield charm. The class of twenty or so students, despite the majority's hatred of Snape, found the subject darkly fascinating. The charm had originally been used as an offensive curse, and when performed in the old-fashioned way, the magical force fields could be used to sever limbs from an opponent's body.  
  
"Therefore, unless you wish to be carried to the hospital wing in two separate bags, I suggest you pay attention, Mr. Longbottom." Snape warned, as he moved to the centre of the room and pulled up the sleeves of his long black robes.  
  
"Protego!" he cast with a flick of the wand. Instantly, half a purple bubble appeared in front of him. With a second twist of the wrist, it vanished.  
  
Harry smiled to himself. He had performed the charm in the past much better than this, gaining a deeper blue over a larger area. He turned to tell Ron this, but Snape spotted him.  
  
"Ah… Potter." He said in a dangerously sweet voice. "Our resident expert at defensive magic. Instead of giving Weasley private tuition, which I do not deny he probably needs, would you care to come up share your wisdom with the class?"  
  
Harry stood up, unsure as Snape turned to smile at him. "I'm going to curse you."  
  
Harry barely had time to bend up, having routled through his bag for his wand, when Snape cried, "Inanimo!"  
  
Instantly, Harry summoned a perfect shield, bouncing the crackling white bolt onto the ceiling where it exploded in a shower of sparks.  
  
The class burst into a round of applause at this, but Snape was not impressed.  
  
"Again?" he asked, but without waiting for a reply, he called, "Homunculus!"  
  
Once again, Harry deflected the bright red triangles of energy sent at him. One of them flew into a portrait on the opposite side of the room, causing the sleepy witch inside to instantly shrink to a third her size.  
  
Snape, without even asking this time raised his wand, but was distracted by an ethereal tone, which sounded from the captivated audience. He snapped around. The rising wail sounded again – it was coming from Hermione's bag. Her face turned instantly scarlet, as she attempted to discreetly silence the offending article.  
  
"Is that a scroll?" Snape asked, his voice calm, but his eyes popping with livid anger.  
  
"Yes, professor." Hermione replied.  
  
"Hand it to me – NOW!" Snape commanded. Hermione replied, tears threatening to drip from the corner of her eye at the surrender of her prized possession. "You will be joining your companions in detention this evening. Now, get back to your seat."  
  
However, when she was sitting down, Snape yelled, "STUPEFY." Harry's world went black.  
  
  
  
"Obviously not fast enough." Harry heard in his left ear, as the fuzz in front of him distilled into a classroom. Snape had awoken him as the other students were filtering out of the class to go to lunch. His head was pounding with pain, but not from his telltale scar. A rather large bump had protruded from the back of his head.  
  
Instantly, he pulled himself to his feet, and left the classroom, Snape chuckling maliciously.  
  
"You can't deny it wasn't an interesting lesson." Harry heard a Hufflepuff girl tell her friend.  
  
"Yeah." The friend agreed. "He's a great teacher – shame he's such a…"  
  
Harry never found out what Snape was, as Ron and Hermione, from down the bottom of the hall called him. The girls turned around, and noticing Harry smiled.  
  
"That was so cool before, Harry!"  
  
Harry rubbed his head again, before replying, "Thanks."  
  
He paused for a second as Hermione and Ron caught up.  
  
"Let's get some lunch. I'm famished." Ron declared.  
  
"Don't you ever think about anything else?" Hermione laughed.  
  
Ron looked offended.  
  
  
  
The first lesson of the afternoon was double charms. The class had split up into pairs in order to revise their spells from the previous years.  
  
"No point rushing on, if we can't master the basics." Flitwick declared from his dusty stack of books, as he dodged a candle stick that had been sent flying by a careless banishment charm.  
  
Harry was working with Neville, surrounded by a stack of cushions.  
  
"Accio!" Neville cried, with a wild sweep of his hand.  
  
Harry's glasses flew off his face into the pillowed barrier.  
  
"Sorry." Neville blushed.  
  
"It's OK." Harry laughed. "Accio glasses!"  
  
Hermione wasn't having much more luck with Ron.   
  
"No! No! No!" she was crying, as yet another cushion exploded into burning feathers. "You don't need to jab even half that hard!"  
  
"Very good, Harry!" Flitwick praised as Harry sorted a row of plush toys into height order. "Have you been practising over the summer?"  
  
"Actually, yeah." Harry admitted. "I got an Ementio Practise Wand as a birthday present."  
  
Harry pulled a stick from a leather sheath in his bag. It was not too different from his own wand in shape. However it was bright purple at the base, and orange at the tip.  
  
"Ooh." Flitwick cooed, taking it into his hands to examine it.  
  
"Wingardium Leviosa," he cried, with the correct hand motion. Instantly, a green light lit up on the end of the wand.  
  
"Very good." the contented professor commented, handing back the training device to Harry, who placed it carefully back into his bag.  
  
  
  
The rest of charms was more or less uneventful, and so slightly bruised from the occasional failed spell, Harry, Hermione and Ron walked on to transfiguration. Professor McGonagall was waiting for them with dire words printed onto the board behind her.  
  
"NEWT COURSEWORK."  
  
"Ooo. Coursework!" Hermione quickly began babbling to whoever was listening. "I was expecting this; not so soon in the year though. It should be ok, though, right? I mean; we'll have plenty of time to work on it, and we'll be allowed to research it, properly. The teachers are available, and..."  
  
"Hermione!" Ron hissed. "I'm sure Professor McGonagall will go over all this..."  
  
Hermione's spurt of worries subsided into a quiet murmuring, and she took her usual place.  
  
"This year," McGonagall began, striding down the classroom examining her set, "As well as continuing your studies for exams, you will have one large project each to complete. In order to prevent cheating, this project will be kept as a secret for each of you until it is completed. By the laws of the ministry of magic, I'm required to tell you that a Fidelius Charm has been put over all coursework in this school. Once you have been informed of your project, you will not be able to discuss it without my express permission."  
  
McGonagall reached into a pocket of her robes and pulled out a cream stack of envelopes with the names of the class member's written out in vivid cyan ink. She distributed them starting with the back of the classroom. The pieces of paper inside, when they had been read by the students they were issued to, burst into bright blue flames.  
  
When Hermione received hers, she read it eagerly and smiled. Harry wondered what could've been inside it that would cheer her up. He also knew that it would be a long time before he ever found out. However, his thoughts did not dwell on the project's of other peoples for long, as he was issued his own task.  
  
  
  
"For the eyes of Harry Potter only:  
  
Your Task: The Transformation of Human into Animal  
  
Maximum Grade Available: Outstanding (Task A), Exceeds Expectations (Task B)  
  
You may attempt either of these tasks to obtain your marks. It is not necessarily to choose a specific task until 1 week before the deadline of the end of the school year.  
  
Task A : Learn the theory behind, and perform a charm to turn a human into an animal with the aid of a wand and/or vocal spells.  
  
Task B : Learn the history of, and perform the Animagus charm to convert yourself into an animal at will.  
  
If you wish to attempt Task B, please speak to your transfiguration teacher, who will register you with a temporary license for the duration of this coursework."  
  
  
  
Harry put the sheet of paper down onto the desk, and before his mind had finished absorbing all the information, it flickered into ashes.  
  
Him? An Animagus? Sure – his father had been one, but it had taken him many years of practise. Would he be able to manage it? He always had the option of doing a different spell... but an Animagus... it would be tricky, but it would be something special.  
  
McGonagall seemed to be reading his mind. "A lot of hard work will be required, Potter."  
  
  
  
After much lounging around in the common room, and a nervously taken evening meal, the three made their way down to the potions complex. The leaden weight of the promise of a miserable detention helped to carry them down the many flights of stairs. As they waited by the gnarled door to Snape's lair, they heard footsteps approaching. Steps much lighter than of Snape's.  
  
Draco Malfoy was walking down the corridor.  
  
"What are you doing?" Ron snapped, for once, his mood not lightened by a good meal.  
  
"Mind your own business, Weasley." Malfoy droned without turning around to look at him.  
  
"We'll find out, you know!" Hermione threatened.  
  
The door to the potions lab opened, and Snape beckoned them inside.  
  
"Oh yes." Malfoy laughed. "Yes - you will." 


	6. Detention

Authorial Note: For some reason, it has come to my attention that I perhaps ought to have thanked my reviewers more for their feedback on my story. Just because I haven't given explicit thanks in previous chapters, doesn't mean that I wasn't eternally greatful for all of your interest in my story. The only reason I write this story is for it to be read, and so naturally, it should be my duty to thank the readers. So, I shall now thank my reviewers to date, in order of "first appearance." If this takes up too much space, tough! These people deserve praise.  
  
  
  
tris2 - I'm glad you're enjoying it so far! You have my eternal thanks for reading (and when applicable, reviewing) all of my works to date! It's great to have people like you as friends (even when we don't always get along 100%)! :D  
  
Daintress - It brings me pleasure every time a story of mine is refered to as "good work." I read your story, "Courting Miss Black" and loved it.  
  
Susan D - I offer you many thanks indeed for your continued intrest in my work.  
  
Achin 2 Lick Clays Neck - I'm glad you're enjoying this story. And yes, I do have a problem with leaving cliffhangers. It's just my style, and well... I need to give some reason for people to read the next chapter! :p  
  
baby chaos - Thanks for reading so far! I shall try my best to update frequently.  
  
Starcrystal13 - Thanks for your constructive criticism. I shall bear that in mind in future updates. Also, I can and *will* leave you hanging! :p  
  
LuciusAndSnapeRock - It makes me smile to know that my story is "morish." Hopefully you'll be wanting to find out what happens next after every chapter until the whole thing is finished! Thanks.  
  
snakefang-1703 - I'm glad you've enjoyed it to date. I also read and enjoyed part of one of your fics.  
  
potterorligurl - I'm glad you like the story to date... or at least acknowledge it has the potential to be liked! And it wasn't really my idea of Harry having voices. That kinda also happened in Chamber of Secrets too :p  
  
Rhyanna - Thank you ever so much for your continued intrest in all my stories, especially this one. It's worth noting that you also corrected the first ever mistake in my story (I actually spelt the *title* wrong of all things!) Also, thank you for your patience with me when I'm being unreasonable, or moody. You are one of the people I'm proud to be a friend of! And remember, keep thinking happy thoughts... and don't do anything too random. *waves bottle of chloroform threateningly*  
  
Curlycurlz - I'm pleased you've liked my story to date. Thanks for pointing out the error. I've corrected it now!  
  
yellowpages - I'm glad you're enjoying this. You shall find out what is wrong with Dean soon enough.  
  
Innocent Little Birdie - You're right. I am a sadist at heart; especially when it comes to writing! And you shall find out in due time what is happening with the common room.  
  
Phire Phoenix - I always like being complimented (being an attention seeking brat, myself :p), so thanks! I shall take your advice to heart, and try to make the next chapters more descriptive.  
  
elven-emma - You read my fic (or part of it) at last! Thanks a lot. It's not that long is it? And your LXG/HP crossover fic is officially hilarious.  
  
  
  
Now for the actual story... This chapter is dedicated to Laura (again *groan* =p) for obvious reasons.  
  
  
  
Chapter 6 – Detention  
  
  
  
The three students made their way into the dimly lit dungeon, and instantly a putrid stench assaulted their noses. Harry could feel the acidity of the fumes dissolving the insides of his nostrils.  
  
"I had the great pleasure of teaching the first years, last lesson." Snape informed the unfortunate group. "They were less than accurate in addition of ingredients to their concoction."  
  
Harry's stomach lurched when he saw the condition of the laboratory. In one corner shards of a ruined cauldron, covered in a gooey green liquid, coated the floor and most of the ceiling. A lumpy pile of unidentifiable paste was vibrating dangerously on the edge of a work surface, and a cracked vial of what appeared to be dragon bile was leaking its contents down the side of a wall.  
  
"I want every inch of this laboratory, and the store cupboard spotless."  
  
Hermione reached into her pocket to draw her wand in preparation for this task.  
  
"No magic." Snape smiled.  
  
Ron opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again extremely quickly at the glare he received.  
  
"Any objections?" he asked, icily. At their silence, Snape spun around, his dark cloak causing the nearby candles to flicker angrily. He swept past his brown candle-stained desk, and into the office behind, slamming the door.  
  
  
  
In silence, the three worked their way systematically around the room, mopping up the spills, and dusting the walls with greasy dusters that Snape had grudgingly left on his desk for their use. After about twenty minutes, they stood back to admire the product of their effort. Nothing had changed. The room was still an abomination.  
  
"Shall we split up to tackle this?" Ron suggested, resigned to the fact that he was in for a long evening.  
  
"Good idea." Hermione commended quickly, as a drop of something purple fell from the ceiling and splashed noisily onto one of her shoes. "You two tidy in here. I'll do the supplies room."  
  
She slid through the door into the store cupboard, and out of their sight.  
  
"The cheek of it!" Ron muttered under his breath, as he attempted to dislodge a hardened pile of an unknown substance with his leather duster.  
  
  
  
For another quarter of an hour, the boys worked in near silence, the stubbornness of the mess monopolising their energy and attention. An icy chill crept down Harry's spine. Someone was behind him. Right behind him.  
  
"Ron?" he called nervously.  
  
"Yeah?" Ron's voice answer from the other end of the room.  
  
"Never mind."  
  
The uncomfortable presence of a person unknown had faded, leaving behind a black pit of ill ease.  
  
Suddenly, the white flames dancing above the dribbling green candles inverted into a furious black. The room flipped into a curious non-darkness. A gust of screaming wind howled around the room, whispering angry secrets. Several vases fell off their shelves on the wall, before the candles blew back to their normal state.  
  
Ron signed, and turned around to see a smashed pot on the floor behind. "I just cleaned that part!"  
  
"Didn't you just feel that?" Harry asked, even more alarmed at Ron's indifference to the situation.  
  
"Huh?" Ron was confused now. "Feel what? I wasn't paying attention."  
  
Harry frowned, but decided to keep matters to himself. He didn't want everyone to think he was hearing voices, or seeing things again. However, what worried him was that he was rapidly running out of explanations. His scar was not twitching at all, and the beast that lay in the Chamber of Secrets had been slain years ago, now.  
  
  
  
Hermione was furious. Snape had taken away her PortaScroll. That little device had taken her months to save up for; and now that it was in Snape's hands, she had no idea if she would ever get it back. Dark visions of a torn sheet of creme paper being dropped slowly into a fire floated through her mind.  
  
To top it off, she absolutely hated doing cleaning "muggle-style." She rarely got detentions, and so was unused to exerting this much energy to clean something when she could simply banish all the dirt away with a couple of wand motions. The last time she had been forced to clean something by hand was when she had stayed at her Aunt Flora's house in the summer holidays a couple of years ago. Even then she used copious amounts of magical stain remover which she had previously bought from Diagon Ally.  
  
The looming walls of the store cupboard quivered, shaking a new layer of dust down onto the floor. Hermione shivered, and pulled her robes closer around herself. An inexplicable cold wet depression dropped onto her shoulders like a course heavy cloak.  
  
"It's quite dumb really, isn't it?" a subtle voice in her ear told her. "You're easily the most brilliant pupil here – and you know it. Yet still, you're not recognised by anyone."  
  
Several low footsteps echoed around the room. Hermione turned around to face the shelved wall behind her. Nothing. Slightly puzzled, but not too concerned, Hermione returned to wiping the greyness away from the mahogany shelves with a damp cloth.  
  
She had just finished her initial dusting circuit of the room, and was moving onto the polish when the unpainted door crept open. Snape swooped in.  
  
Hermione, not wanting to give him the pleasure of acknowledging his presence, did not lift her eyes from the wall. She could hear him unscrewing a bottle slowly. Something was poured into a flask. It trickled painfully slowly.  
  
"He's looking at you." The thoughts floated into Hermione's head. She bit her lip. It took all her effort to not turn around and confirm the suspicion.  
  
"You know that only he appreciates you," the voice in the back of her mind told her. Hermione had now been polishing the same spot for a minute.  
  
Snape moved around the room, his tall presence blocking the candles, and casting a shadow over Hermione.  
  
"He's definitely staring at you – admiring you."  
  
The constricting load of Hermione's shoulders lifted, as she listened to the voice. It suddenly became louder.  
  
"And you know you want him too!"  
  
"Don't be absurd!" Hermione exclaimed out loud.  
  
Snape was shocked at this seemingly random exclamation. However, he was not angry. "What did you just say, Miss Granger?"  
  
Hermione had suddenly become very uncomfortable. "Um... nothing; I just thinking out loud."  
  
Snape frowned, his smooth black hair partially concealing his deep brown eyes. With a brush of his hand, he flicked it back. For a curious second, he rubbed his ear, and look of puzzlement flashed across his face. However, it quickly dissolved into an emotion which Snape had not felt for a long time.  
  
"Right...." he replied slowly. And then added in a manner most dissimilar to his usual, "You do a lot of that, don't you?"  
  
"Pardon, Professor?" Hermione asked cautiously, checking for his usual sarcasm. Small talk with Snape was not an everyday event.  
  
"You think a lot." Snape replied, his nervous voice betraying his steady stance.  
  
"See..." the persistent voice affirmed Hermione.  
  
Encouraged, Hermione decided to test the waters. Turning around from her work, and casting her eyes straight into his, she replied, "I have a lot to think about."  
  
Snape, entranced, put down the ivory measuring cylinder.   
  
"Oh?" he inquired, his voice soft, but not angry.  
  
"Well there is one thing that hasn't been off my mind for a while now..." Hermione spoke carefully, inescapably seized by the moment.  
  
"Good... good... keep on going." the voice urged her.  
  
Snape was definitely interested now. "And what would that be, Miss Granger."  
  
The now warm dungeon air was silent for a bliss-filled second.  
  
"Well..." Hermione replied coyly, moving close enough to Snape to notice that his pale skin was totally devoid of blemishes. "I'm not sure how to say it. I may have to show you..."  
  
They were now infinitely close, but yet so far apart.  
  
However, before Snape could have Hermione's thought's demonstrated upon him, the door of the small room flung open with a bang.  
  
  
  
Hermione! Snape! Potions' Cupboard!  
  
"Miss Granger. What on earth are you doing?" Snape demanded loudly, pushing her away quickly. He shot a nervous glance at Harry and Ron who were stood in the doorway.  
  
Hermione's face fell instantly, and she opened her mouth to say something. Snape shot her a hating glare, and took a step back.  
  
"Get Out." He hissed.  
  
A sparkle of a tear threatened to escape through Hermione's eyes. Harry, still unsure what exactly had been going on, shot her a quizzical glance. She looked away instantly.  
  
"What about the rest of the detention?" Ron asked, confused.  
  
Snape drew out his wand, and raised it high above his head, red sparks hissing randomly from the tip. Snarling, with a look of pure malice in his dark eyes, Snape thrust his wand down in an angry motion. Ron flinched. However, instead of letting loose a curse, with a minute flick of his wrist Snape cast, "Scorgify."   
  
Instantly, the dungeon reverted to it's usual pristine state.  
  
"Now leave." His voice had sunk to a level of deathly quietness.  
  
Ron, attempting to clarify what he had just saw, moved to inquire with further questions.  
  
Raising his wand a second time, Snape screamed.  
  
"GO! GET OUT! NOW!"  
  
The three did not need asking again. Instantly, they turned and fled from the now glistening dungeon. Running straight back along the narrow corridor, they clambered noisily up the many flights of stairs to Gryffindor tower. They didn't speak until they had clambered through the portrait hole.  
  
"Well...?" Ron began to ask, but Hermione had already stormed away to the girls' dormitory, her face in buried her hands.  
  
Ron pulled an unsure face.  
  
"Let's go to sleep." he yawned, looking at the clock.  
  
Harry slowly ascended to the dormitory, and slipped into his pajamas. He climbed onto his soft mattress, and allowed the bed to absorb him. It was only when he was sinking slowly into his feather pillow that he was hit by the full realisation of what had just happened. He was hit hard. 


	7. Thoughts of Quidditch

Disclaimer #1: I think it's time for another of these. I don't own any of the characters mentioned so far in the novel. They remain the sole intellectual property of J.K. Rowling.  
  
Disclaimer #2: Anything said or done in here is fiction. Any resemblance to any actual person or persons is purely co-incidental, or possibly a cleverly co-ordinated scheme to steal your life and put it up on FanFiction.net.  
  
  
  
Authorial Notes - I'm sorry, but this is a longie... still, I hope you enjoy it (and I'm glad you all came back, even after reading chapter six :p).  
  
Baby Chaos - Thanks! I'm glad you've enjoyed it so far, and I shall try my best to update as frequently as possible.  
  
Phire Phoenix - You call that a cliffie? That's nothing! What will *really* be a cliffie is... TO BE CONTINUED.  
  
tris2 - Hurrah! You're still reading it, hehe. And don't worry, your secret is safe with me, I won't tell Laura (mainly because she left her phone behind...)  
  
LuciusAndSnapeRock - Don't worry... my story isn't going to be a HG/SS oriented fic. It will all make sense in the end (hopefully.) I can't stand HG/SS when it just occurs randomly. But I have an excuse, and all will become clear.  
  
Susan D - Calm, my friend, calm. It is just a fic! I'd tell you my complete reasoning behind chapter six, but I'm afraid I'm rather pedantic when it comes to giving away spoilers. I have to leave at least *some* reason for people to read on. ;)  
  
Next-tangent - You finally managed to read what I've done so far! Yay! Thanks. :). And one can *never* have enough reviews (hint hint)  
  
  
  
Dedication: This is dedicated to Rach, partially to restore balance to the universe, but mainly because she is one of the few friends I have left who haven't run away to a french speaking country (probably to get away from me :p).  
  
  
  
Chapter 7 – Thoughts of Quidditch  
  
  
  
The inescapable burden of betrayal didn't leave Harry during the night, and so breakfast was a sour affair. He could barely eat because his stomach was too full of the thought of Snape and Hermione. It was just... wrong. Wrong on so many levels. Snape had always been their common enemy. Ever since Harry had arrived at Hogwarts he had been insulted and humiliated by him, just because Snape harbored a stupid grudge against his father. Siding with Snape was equivalent to siding against himself. Plus, Snape was about thirty years older than her!  
  
But there was more than that. A prickling feeling from the depths of Harry's soul told him that he'd feel just as betrayed if he thought of Hermione and... well... anyone. This made less sense than a free style French rap battle. He wished that he hadn't obeyed the voice in the back of his mind. If he hadn't have decided to check the potion's cupboard, everyone would still still be on speaking turns.  
  
However, whilst he managed to avoid all conversation at breakfast, on his way to double transfiguration, he was accosted by Professor McGonagall.  
  
"May I have a word, Potter?" she demanded.  
  
Although still in a sour mood, Harry did not dare refuse the furious tower of tartan standing in front of him.  
  
"OK..." he consented nervously.  
  
McGonagall swiftly redirected him down a corridor not on the route to their classroom.  
  
"There was much debating about this with the headmaster and the other staff." She began. "There were many mixed feelings, and hesitations, but it will go on ahead. It will be hard - very hard - but it will happen... sooner than usual. Perhaps sooner than I would've wished."  
  
"Err, Professor..." Harry was completely bewildered now. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"The Quidditch cup, of course!" McGonagall exclaimed in exasperation, as if Harry should have known all along.  
  
"Oh yeah!" Harry exclaimed. The happy memories of flying on his broom flooded back. He could almost taste the cold air on the tip of his tongue, and his fingers clasped around an invisible snitch in his pocket. How could he have forgotten?  
  
"'Oh yeah?'" McGonagall was not impressed by Harry's response. "'Oh yeah?!?' This is important, Potter! I'm used to seeing that cup in my office. In fact, I believe it may have even rusted to the shelf now. If I am forced to hand it over to Snape, I will not be pleased at all."  
  
Harry smiled at thought of foiling Snape once again. He was also amused by the shared view that the Quidditch cup was a two-sided event. The idea of Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw winning was simply out of the question.  
  
"Why are you smiling, Potter?" McGonagall demanded. "The team is not as good as it used to be, and the first match against Ravenclaw is on Halloween. I don't want to put any additional pressure on you, but if the Gryffindor team is not victorious, I will set you more homework than you could possibly imagine."  
  
As Harry listened to this threat, he understood why Angelina Johnson and her predecessors had been so dedicated to making sure the team worked hard.  
  
The two turned at the bend in the corridor, to face the door to their classroom. However, they both frowned when they saw who else was standing there - Draco Malfoy and a group of Slytherins. They were laughing about something.  
  
"Yeah..." Malfoy, the ringleader as usual, was saying, "Gryffindors are really easy. In fact, almost too easy..."  
  
The group burst into laughter again.  
  
"Easy about what, Draco?" McGonagall asked, having crept to a couple of feet behind him.  
  
Malfoy jumped, and flinched at the sound of his unpopular first name.  
  
"Nothing..." he mumbled.  
  
"Then be off with you!" McGonagall shooed.  
  
When the offending group had been dispersed, and several other students had arrived for their lesson, the teacher turned to Harry again. "Here's your captain's badge, Potter. I trust you will use your power wisely."  
  
  
  
The transfiguration lesson itself was uneventful; and even Hermione's depressing silence didn't quite drown out the bubbling excitement about being made Quidditch captain. Exactly why he hadn't been informed about his captainship beforehand never crossed his mind.  
  
However, after double charms Harry was faced with the task of hunting down his team, and informing them of their requirement to join him for a practice that evening.  
  
"But Harry..." Ron tried to protest, "I have lots of homework to do!"  
  
"No you don't." Harry snapped in reply. "And even if you did, you wouldn't do it anyway. You're not skiving this one."  
  
His sister was much easier to persuade.  
  
"Yeah... but only if I can be a chaser." Ginny had teased. Harry was only too keen to oblige. Last year, Ginny had replaced him as seeker.  
  
"Sure." he smiled.  
  
Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper were also interested in participating, being the fresh blood to the team. Harry secretly wished he still had Fred and George as his beaters, but they were now far away selling chaotic products to mischievous school-children.  
  
Unfortunately, he was at a loss when it came to the search for two more chasers to replace Katie and Alicia, both of whom had left at the end of last year.  
  
"Never mind." Ron consoled him. "We should practice with who we have. We can put a notice up in the common room tonight."  
  
  
  
Unfortunately, Harry's timetable informed him that he had double potions in the afternoon. Harry was dreading seeing Snape and Hermione in close quarters so soon. In fact, the free period which he spent in the library researching his transfiguration project was more or less wasted on this worry. With Animagical studies being a strictly controlled art, he didn't know where to start looking for information about it. All of his attention was required to performed this task, but none of it was present. He toyed with the idea of giving up, and trying the other task, but it just didn't appeal to him. The ability that had once been shared by his father, and his friends, was just simply too attractive.  
  
When he eventually wandered down the the dungeons for the second period, he was approached by Hermione. Harry's guts turned to steel.  
  
"Harry?" she asked quietly as they walked in silence.  
  
Harry turned around, perhaps too quickly.  
  
"Yes?" he inquired.  
  
"About last night... I don't know what came over me..."  
  
"Neither do I." Harry replied coldly.  
  
"It was just..."  
  
"Just what?"  
  
"I don't know! I just... I don't know!"  
  
Hermione started crying, and threw herself onto Harry. This bizarre act of what could possibly be remorse was sufficiently unexpected enough to prod some emotion out of Harry. As betrayed as he felt, he didn't like people being so upset around him.  
  
"It's OK." he lied, comforting her.  
  
He had no further words to add. He didn't have a clue what to do so, wisely, he decided to let his presence do the talking. Fortunately, she soon calmed down and they moved on into the senior lab. The blue glow from the throbbing crystals inserted in place of candles reflected off the circular wall. Eerie runes lit up and faded all around the perimeter. Malfoy was already there, unpacking his stuff, whilst reading the ingredients for a potion explained on a hovering blackboard.  
  
"Why look who it is..." he sneered. "Captain Potter and his crony."  
  
Harry noticed a silver glint reflecting from Malfoy's robe. It was a serpent wrapped around a broomstick, with a crown emblazoned with a capital C - the badge of the Slytherin quidditch captain.  
  
However, rather than paying attention to Malfoy, Hermione span around to see the lion badge on Harry's robes.  
  
"You've been made captain?" She exclaimed, before adding, "Well of course, you have!"   
  
Malfoy was not pleased that he was being ignored.  
  
"It's potions now, isn't it?" he commented. "You're new favourite lesson, eh, Granger?"  
  
"Oh, shut up." she snapped in reply.  
  
Malfoy, content that he had found a nerve kept on poking. "Oh dear. I seem to have run out of dragonsbane flower petal. Would you like to go to the cupboard and fetch me some, Granger? I've heard you like it in there."  
  
Hermione was now fuming, but she managed to retain her calm exterior. Harry on the other hand had been pushed too far. Stepping in to defend his friend's honour, he promptly told Malfoy to refrain from any further comments.  
  
"Language, Potter."  
  
Snape had just walked into the laboratory.  
  
"That will be ten points from Gryffindor." he turned to the board, avoiding eye contact with Hermione. "The instructions and ingredients are on this board behind. You will hand me your completed work at the end of the lesson. This task is a simple one, even for you, so I expect it to be performed flawlessly. If I am not satisfied..."  
  
Snape let the threat hang delicately in the air, before turning to look straight at Harry, "I will make my displeasure known."  
  
The group worked in silence, as Snape retreated to the back of the classroom to brew his own concoction. Out of Snape's cauldron a thick mist was pouring, and issuing shrills screams periodically. Trying their hardest to concentrate, the three measured, sliced and stirred, producing the unnamed potion as requested.  
  
At the end of the lesson, Snape moved from his violently hissing firework-of-a-potion to inspect those of his pupils. Silently, he peered into Harry's and Malfoy's cauldron, checking the green hue of the liquid against a chart in his pocket. He did not look towards Hermione at all.  
  
"Yes... these will do." he murmured quietly to himself, before raising his voice. "Leave your cauldron's out. I shall deal with these potions myself. You may leave."  
  
Snape's final comment was more of a command than an issue of permission. Puzzled, but nevertheless keen to escape from his presence, Harry left the classroom. Hermione followed, frowning. Still curious as to the nature of their work, the three students went off on their separate ways.  
  
  
  
Quidditch practice was not a great success, but it wasn't as terrible as Harry had feard it was going to be. Sure, Andrew Kirke did knock the front of his broom off with his bat... twice, but at least he managed to hit the bludger at the same time. Maybe with a few more sessions' work, he would be able to hit it away from the team, instead of right towards them.  
  
Ginny and her brother had become quite adept at the sport due to excessive and highly competitive playing over the summer holidays. However, whilst having an adept chaser, a keeper and a seeker was good, it wasn't really enough for a sport which required a team of seven members.  
  
"Right! That's it!" Harry called, cradling his fingers which had been reddened by a stray bludger, "From now on, we're having three practices a week, every week."  
  
There were many moans from the aching squad, when they eventually landed onto the soft ground. Harry made a mental note to send an owl to Oliver Wood asking him for his advice.  
  
When they finally returned to common room, Hermione was waiting for them, sitting silently thinking. Exhausted, Ron, Ginny and Harry flopped down into a formation of fluffy armchairs.  
  
"So..." Ron started, trying to break the ice, "What have you decided to do about Dean, Ginny?"  
  
Hermione frowned at Ron's choice of a conversation topic, and Ginny didn't seem too happy to discuss it either.  
  
"We split up." she muttered, flicking her long red hair loftily, inviting no questions.  
  
"Good." Ron replied plainly.  
  
This however was evidently the wrong answer. It was not at all what Hermione wanted to hear.  
  
"For heaven's sake, Ron!" she exclaimed suddenly. "You're so... gah... Isn't anyone allowed to have a relationship nowadays?"  
  
Ron was taken aback by this sudden outburst at him.  
  
"This isn't about Snape, is it?" He asked, slowly.  
  
"Of course not!" Hermione snapped. "It's about everything! It just makes me so angry. You make me... ugh. I don't get you at all..."  
  
Harry shot Ginny a quizzical glance. He must've missed something. However, Ginny wasn't any the wiser, either.  
  
"You're... You know what your problem is?" she cried, now attracting the unwanted attention those nearby, "You won't go out with anyone if they're your friend. But then how can you go out with someone you don't know? I hope you get someone really shallow.... just because I'm... I'm..."   
  
Harry had most definitely missed something. However, Ron had put two and two together, and before Harry could find out what exactly Hermione thought she was, Ron had replied, showing unusual tact.  
  
"Errrr..." he spoke carefully, "Hermione; you never actually asked me..."  
  
His effort was in vain. Hermione rose to her feet.  
  
"You never wanted to know!" She shouted, as she began to move towards the girls' dormitory. "Just as you now don't want to know what I saw Draco Malfoy doing this evening..." 


	8. Theory and Investigation

Authorial Notes - Well people, here's another chapter! I hope you all enjoy.  
  
Achin 2 Lick Clays Neck - Thanks for your comments, but the spectacularness has only just begun!  
  
tris2 - You should feel loved. :p And yes, I sort of did have your voice in my head when I said that line. And I'm afraid you're gonna have to keep on "killing me" with the amount of cliffies I intend to drop throughout this story.  
  
LuciusAndSnapeRock - My story says "Thanks for your love!" And I agree with it. :p And of course insanity beats normality... it's so much more fun!  
  
Phire Phoenix - You better run for the hills before the armageddon comes. If you did miss something, you may want to re-check the middle section of chapter 6. And thanks for your praise of my story! :)  
  
band camper - ...nice try, tris. :p  
  
Chapter 8 – Theory and Investigation  
  
  
  
Hermione shook her head fervently, spreading her bushy hair as she clambered up the staircase to the top of the tower, where the girls' dormitory lay. She burst open the door and was assaulted by a myriad of different colours. The room had been split into three vivid sections, each with their own contrasting colour schemes. When they had decoration in third year, it had seemed like a good idea, but now the girls were keeping it as it was simply out of habit.  
  
Hermione cut across Parvati's bright pink segment of the doughnut shaped room, and entered her own. Instantly, she was surrounded by a fathom of soothing sky blue paint. A small nest of trained fairies, all of which who were emitting cyan light, hovered above Hermione's grand four-poster bed. Hermione stepped over a displaced pile of books on the floor, noting silently her need for a new bookcase. She stood in front of her mirror, which was affixed onto the central circular wall of the chamber.  
  
"I don't know why I'm even bothering to say this, as you never listen," the Mirror complained in a loud abrasive voice, "But please, for the love of magic, do something with your hair!"  
  
Hermione sighed. She wasn't paying attention. Thoughts of Ron kept on echoing around her head. What had she ever seen in him? I mean, apart from the fact that he could be so funny sometimes. And he had those cute freckles. And that red hair. And he always managed to be so... Annoying. Her common sense slapped back into place. Sometimes he could be so tactless; he never noticed anything of importance.  
  
Still, she had no clue why she hadn't told the others what she had seen that slimy Slytherin Malfoy doing. A nagging voice in the back of her head wouldn't let her open her mouth. It wouldn't allow her to inform them. However, the voice did not raise any protests when she decided to fall into an argument with one of her best friends.  
  
However, whether or not she was going to tell the others or not, she had definitely witnessed something. She needed to do further research and intelligence gathering. Malfoy had met with a robed figure just outside the castle grounds during the evening, and they had talked for a long time. Hermione was sure they weren't discussing the weather. She was still considering what action to take next when she was approached by Ginny.  
  
"Are you OK?" She asked, stretching out a concerned hand onto Hermione's shoulder.  
  
"Not really." Hermione sniffed.  
  
Ginny was concise and to the point, yet she managed to render her question with a sympathetic tone of voice. "Is it about Ron?"  
  
Hermione tensed slightly at the sound of his name. However, after a short pause she relaxed and conceded, "Not really. I guess the problem is with me."  
  
This answer concerned Ginny. Hoping that Hermione hadn't fallen into a pit of self-loathing, she nervously asked, "What do you mean?"  
  
"Well..." Hermione explained, "I kinda obsessed over something that never was; and to be honest something that I didn't really need. He's always been a good friend to me, and I'm grateful for just that."  
  
Ginny smiled. "That's very mature of you."  
  
"Not really." Hermione laughed feebly, "I'm just saying that - I hate his guts."  
  
Ginny laughed along with her, before adding "You'll be OK, though?"  
  
"Yeah." Hermione admitted, moving away from her mirror, and over to her bed. She slid a couple of open books off the duvet and they flopped onto the floor. She sat down in the newly freed space. Ginny surveyed the wreckage shrouding the rest of of Hermione's bed covers.  
  
"Errr..." she started to ask, but Hermione gave a pre-emptive answer.  
  
"Just chuck it all on the floor, if you want."  
  
Ginny carefully gathered a few books from the bed, and arranged them in a neat pile on the carpet besides. She took a seat next to Hermione.  
  
"Thanks." Hermione said.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Well – you've always been like a sister to me."  
  
Ginny giggled, "I've had a lot of practise!"  
  
The two sat in a fragile happiness.  
  
"So..." Ginny moved on, "Are you going to tell us what you saw Draco Malfoy doing?"  
  
Instantly, the demanding voice returned to Hermione's mind. "No... It's nothing."  
  
"But it may be important!" Hermione thought back at the voice.  
  
"You do not want to talk about it..." the voice persuaded smoothly. "They'll all think you're being silly, and laugh at you. Plus; after your little rant, what makes you think they'll listen?"  
  
"I must!" Hermione defied the voice. "I think it is necessary for them to know!"  
  
"No!" The voice demanded.  
  
"Yes!" Hermione shouted in defiance.  
  
From Ginny's reaction, Hermione could tell that this exclamation must have been out loud. Instantly, the heavy presence lifted itself from her mind. She gasped in relief. It was as if she had been drowning in icy water, and then suddenly brought back to oxygen.  
  
"Draco Malfoy was outside, talking with what looked like a Death Eater."  
  
Ginny shot up in shock at this revelation.  
  
"Death Eaters!? Here at Hogwarts? You'd better go down and tell the others."  
  
Hermione gave a mischievous smile. "I'd rather not face that lot at the moment. Just pass the message on to them for me."  
  
  
  
Harry and Ron were waiting downstairs in the common room. Ron was poking his wand feebly at a sand pit positioned on the oak table in front of him.  
  
"Move. Damn. You." he cursed at the immobile powder.  
  
"I don't think that's the correct incantation." Harry remarked, as his own sand tower grew larger and larger.  
  
"Why don't you do it for me, then?" Ron asked icily.  
  
"You want me to do your charms homework?" Harry laughed. "I hardly think it's worth trying to copy me. It'd be wiser to copy someone actually good at the subject."  
  
Ron growled at this thought, but before he could reply, the messenger Ginny, joined them around the table. Worried looks were passed as she relayed what Hermione had seen.  
  
"Malfoy scheming?" Ron commented dryly. That's hardly news."   
  
"But about what, exactly." Harry wondered.  
  
"I dunno." Ginny replied. "She was being rather cryptic."  
  
"Still..." Ron began, "It's worth knowing..."  
  
"She's got it under control, OK?" Ginny interrupted aggressively.  
  
Fortunately, Ron was bitterly satisfied with this answer. "Well... if she doesn't need our help, I guess that's fine with me."  
  
Ginny scowled, but Harry stepped in, not wanting any more arguments.  
  
"What subjects have we got tomorrow, Ron?"  
  
Ron thought about it for a second, "None... it's a Saturday."  
  
All three of them were relieved to hear this news. Despite the fact that they had only attended a half-week since returning from their summer holidays, it was perhaps one of the most stressful they'd experienced at Hogwarts.  
  
"Let's go to bed." Harry suggested.  
  
Everyone was eager to listen to this advice.  
  
  
  
"Harry!" a voice hissed in his ear.  
  
Harry rolled over in his bed, and groaned.  
  
"Wake up, Harry!"  
  
That voice again. Was he asleep and dreaming? Did someone want him?  
  
"Come on..."  
  
For a dreamed voice, it was very persistent.  
  
"What..." Harry spoke aloud, searching for a name for a couple of seconds before one eventually clicked into place, "Hermione?"  
  
"Yeah. It's me." She whispered "Can I borrow your cloak?"  
  
"My what?" Harry murmured, rolling back to the other side of his bed.  
  
"Your invisibility cloak."  
  
Harry opened his eyes a fraction, to glance the words 5:05am on his enchanted stone of a bedside clock.  
  
"Whatever." he grunted, and then promptly fell back into much needed slumber.  
  
When Harry finally woke up, his clock read 1pm. Slipping into his casual wear, he turned to look behind him. Ron's bed was abandoned. Wondering what had possessed his red-haired friend to get up and leave at such an ungodly hour, he made his own way down to the common room. Hermione was sitting in a chair waiting for him.  
  
"It was no good!" She informed him.  
  
"Err... what?" Harry asked. Memories of his awakening earlier in the morning groggily returned to him. "What? The invisibility cloak didn't work?"  
  
"Not quite..." Hermione half-explained. "I just couldn't put it to any useful use."  
  
"What were you trying to do?" Harry inquired, now interested.  
  
Hermione flashed a cheeky smile. "I was trying to break into the Slytherin common room."  
  
Harry was impressed by this act of rebellion, and was already halfway through a turn to see what Ron's reaction was, before he remembered that Ron wasn't there.  
  
"So what went wrong?" he asked, concerned for both the well being of his friend and his prized possession.  
  
"They had some form of Repulsus Charm on the doorway - nothing unseen can pass. But don't worry... I have another plan!"  
  
Hermione whipped out a paper plate full of crisp golden chocolate chip cookies, covered in a thin layer of clingfilm.  
  
"You're going to throw cookies at them until they let you in?" Harry asked, in confusion.  
  
"No – you'll see." Hermione replied, and then checked her wristwatch. "Come on; we're running out of time!"  
  
"What about Ron?" Harry asked, still wondering where his friend had disappeared to.  
  
Hermione's mood bended into darkness for a split second. "Oh, forget him! Let's go before it's too late."  
  
Harry was still confused, but it was blatantly obvious to him that he didn't have a say in the matter. Grasped by the arm, Harry was abducted through the portrait hole. Within a few minutes they were both standing underground, outside the blank stretch of wall leading to the Slytherins' lair. Despite the gloomy darkness, the air was not damp. Hermione carefully placed the plate of cookies on the floor, right in front of where the invisible door lay.  
  
"OK - What's going on?" Harry asked, his empty belly vibrating at the vicious buttery scent that the cookies had begun emitting.  
  
"Soon Crabbe and Goyle will be coming back from their weekly collection of 'Entrance Hall Tax' from first years." Hermione explained.  
  
"Those cookies are drugged?" asked Harry, worried that he may have just been roped into another invasion of the Slytherin common room.  
  
"Hmm..." Hermione replied mysteriously, "Drugged? No. They're not drugged."  
  
"Then what did you..." Harry started but Hermione clapped her hand over his mouth.  
  
The sounds of heavy footsteps, chinking of money bags, and guffawing echoed along the corridor. The two Gryffindors instantly backed away ten feet into an unilluminated section of the dank dungeon-esque passageway.  
  
"Mmm!" Crabbe called out in glee. "What's this?"  
  
"Mysterious cookies!" replied Goyle happily, "Left conveniently outside the common room where we would be sure to find them!"  
  
"Shall we eat them?" Crabbe asked.  
  
"Why not!" Goyle replied, "What could possibly go wrong?"  
  
Crabbe ripped off the clingfilm sheet protecting their bounty, and stuffed into his pocket, not bothering to search for a bin. Within half a minute, the gift had been completely devoured. Only an empty, crumb-filled plate remained. Satisfied, Crabbe and Goyle called out the password, "Morbidicus" and entered the Slytherin hall.  
  
"Now what?" Harry asked in a hushed voice.  
  
"Shh!" Hermione whispered, as she bent over and picked up the plate. She beckoned Harry closer to her, and held up the plate next to their ears. The sounds of the Slytherin common room could be heard, from the perspective of a piece of clingfilm stuffed into Crabbe's pocket. A roaring fire was crackling in the background, and a small group of people were laughing.  
  
"Ahhh... Crabbe! Goyle!"  
  
Harry turned around. He was sure Malfoy was standing right next to him.  
  
"It's just my magical bugging device!" Hermione hissed. Harry turned back to the plate.  
  
"I was just about to go over the next stage of our plan!" Malfoy drawled.  
  
Harry laughed silently at the bitter irony of this. "Gryffindors were easy" according to Malfoy, yet he was so predictably boastful.  
  
Malfoy continued, "I'm going to go down to the gift-chamber again tonight. It should be a success... again!"  
  
There was a whooping catcall from Pansy Parkinson.  
  
Malfoy elaborated. This was clearly as story he enjoyed retelling. "I still can't believe how easy that mudblood Granger was. To think, it only took a few well placed words into the back of her head, and she was all ready to anything for her Ickle-Sevvikins."  
  
Pansy Parkinson's laughter was now almost drowning out the rest of the noise. Harry turned to Hermione, who was scowling once more. Her fists were clenched tight.  
  
"So yeah..." Malfoy declared. "I'm paying another visit soon. I think it's time there's another surprise for the Gryffindors." 


	9. Quidditch Tryouts

Authorial Notes - Well, this is slightly shorter than some I've done, but, well, I don't want my story to die or fade out just yet. I've not quite reached the "exciting" part, and well... quite frankly none of it makes sense when I think about it. However, it's 4:30am now or something, because a certain reviewer (no blame being transfered to anyone here... TRIS) told me that I needed coke. And I listened to her advise, and followed it. TO THE MAX. However, the majority of this chapter was written before nightfall, so I'm hoping it should be OK. However, there is a slight chance I may have missed something in the proof-reading, so if you spot any blatant mistakes, or typos, please don't hesistate to point 'em out. Thanks!  
  
tris2 - Thanks! I hope I've updated soon enough... as you know, I've been working on other things!  
  
Phire Phoenix - Glad you're still reading on, and glad it now makes more sense to you! Thanks for your continued intrest.  
  
art bunneh - You never thought you'd be reading HP-FF, yet still I managed to lure you into its trap! I'm glad you want me to carry this on. And yes... I am a very sadistical writer :p.  
  
Rhyanna - Yay! You're back!!! Glad you're still liking it... or at least pretending to like it to avoid my terrible wrath!  
  
Innocent Little Birdie - I'm happy you're enjoying it (or at least that my sadistic cliffies have made you want to know what's going to happen next.) Well, you won't have to wait any longer for the next chapter, as here it is!  
  
yellowpages - Indeed, I should really stop abusing Hermione so much. :p. Who has outdone themselves? Me with my writing (if so, thanks!), or Hermione with her cling-film? (In which case :p)  
  
Susan D - Oh no! I managed to confuse someone. Hmmph... I dunno what to say. Well, you're obviously still reading, so that's good! I hope, in time, to have clarified everything. Also, I think you're noticing the effects of my poorly organised story plan, as well. ;)  
  
  
  
Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to caffeine! Yay caffeine! It is also dedicated to anyone who has cheered me up in the past few days (so that includes all my reviewers!)  
  
  
  
Chapter 9 - Quidditch Tryouts  
  
  
  
Ron swerved gracefully around on his broom, and the soft leather quaffle came to rest gently in his hands just in front of the hoops.  
  
"Nice try, Ginny..." He laughed. "But not quite good enough!"   
  
"Try?" Ginny exclaimed in mock indignation, the cool September breeze tugging slightly on her hair. "That wasn't a shot, it was a pass..."  
  
Ron chucked the large red ball back to her, grinning. "Oh?"  
  
"Yeah!" Ginny agreed, taunting him. "Now THIS is a shot!"  
  
She lunged to her left, and Ron matched her movement seamlessly. He even was in the right place when she suddenly swerved in the opposite direction. However, he was not expecting it when she, facing the right hoop, skillfully flicked the spinning quaffle through the central.  
  
"Nice one!" he praised, as he thrust into a dive, to catch the falling ball. Ron was glad he'd decided to spend the morning practicing quidditch with his sister. Not only did it give him something to take his mind of Hermione's unexpected rant at him, it was also to put it simply, fun.  
  
However, when he looked up from his plunge, the ball in his hands, he saw Hermione walking into the quidditch grounds, escorted by Harry. Wondering if it was possible to avoid them, or whether it was now too obvious that he had seen them, he cautiously began to move upwards. Before he could get very far, however, Harry waved to him. He was shaking a rather juicy-looking sandwich in his direction. Rather than taking the risk of falling out with another of his friends, Ron returned Harry's wave. Instantly, he recognised the hand motion associated with the banishment charm, and lunch was flying towards him at high speed. Carelessly chucking the quaffle up to Ginny, he caught the parcel of food as it passed.  
  
Unfortunately, the quaffle fell to the floor, as Ginny was receiving her lunch in a similar way from Hermione. Harry disappeared into the changing room, and within a couple of minutes was up in the air with Ron.  
  
"Where were you this morning?" Harry asked, pulling up his broom.  
  
"I've been out here." Ron replied blandly. "Practising quidditch for the tryouts this afternoon."  
  
"Practising?" Harry inquired, "But why? You're already on the team!"  
  
"Well..." Ron replied, "I wanted to tidy up my skills a bit. You know; to show the new chasers what standards our team has, and such."  
  
Harry hummed at this. "Plus," he suggested coyly, "You wanted to avoid Hermione, right?"  
  
Ron frowned, but was impressed at his friend's perceptive abilities. "Yeah. You're right."  
  
"You're gonna have to talk to her sometime, you know." Harry warned.  
  
"I know, I know... it's just; I don't want to get my head bitten off if you get what I mean..."  
  
Harry decided that it was time to change the subject to something equally important. "Well... we found something out. About Malfoy..."  
  
Ron was interested, and moved slightly closer to hear what Harry had to say. Harry repeated everything he had heard Malfoy gloating about in his common room.  
  
"Blimey!" Ron exclaimed when Harry had finished, "He can get into our heads?"  
  
Harry thought about this for a second. "I'm not quite sure... I don't think he can get anything out of our minds... but he can definitely put thoughts into them."  
  
"And that's why..." Ron hesitated as he fought back the gory details of the memory, "Well... what happened in that potions cupboard."  
  
"Yup." Harry replied.  
  
"And her rant at me in the common room?"  
  
Harry was less quick to answer this time. "Umm... I don't think so. I think that's what she was really thinking at the time."  
  
Ron scowled slightly, but his expression softened, "She can be such a rampant she-devil, sometimes... with her mystic revels."  
  
Harry laughed at loud at this expression, and wondered where on earth Ron had managed to pick it up. "A... what?" he asked.  
  
Ron gave Harry a testing look, unsure of whether or not Harry was joking. "Haven't you ever heard that one? My mum says it all the time!"   
  
It was now Ron's turn to try and steer the conversation away from Hermione. "We need to get into this gift chamber – and see what it actually is."  
  
Harry nodded in agreement, but before he could add anything else, a hopeful stream of chaser-wannabes poured out of the castle onto the grass below. Hermione waved in farewell, and returned inside.  
  
"It begins." Ron commented dryly, diving to the ground to retrieve the ball, before shooting up to take his place around the goal hoops. Harry flew down to greet the potential players. Ginny, observing his movements from above, joined him.  
  
Ron patiently flexed his fingers. Harry seemed to be delivering some kind of speech to the crowd. Ron was kind of glad that he wasn't quidditch captain; he didn't want to have to be the one who had to tell all but two of the enthusiastic fans that they hadn't made the team. All he had to do was stop the ball from going through the rings. Simple enough.  
  
The first candidate to fly up was Hupert Dillian.  
  
"He was good..." Ron thought, "...up to the part when he got onto the broom."  
  
After a nasty collision with a hoop-post, the failed candidate was escorted back to the ground, only to be replaced by a new "chaser." Certainly, James Flique could fly well, and he had a firm grip on the ball. What really made him lose points was that when it came to shooting, rather than trying the conventional tactic of throwing the quaffle between the rings, he managed to launch it at high speeds into Harry's face.  
  
"We'll call you if we need a new beater..." Harry muttered, as the embarrassed attempter returned to where he had come from.  
  
Many more came up to try and to fail. This cycle continued for a major portion of the afternoon. Only a couple of people actually had their shots on target, but even then Ron was prepared for them. His skills as a goal-keeper had matured well over the past year, and Harry was impressed by this.  
  
"OK... only two more." Ginny eventually told Harry.  
  
Harry sighed impatiently, slightly irked at the fruitlessness of his afternoon. "Let's bring 'em both up at once. Might as well get it over and done with."  
  
Ginny agreed, and flew back down to the changing rooms to summon the last two. However, to Ron great surprise, she ascended with Colin and Dennis Creevy.  
  
Seeing the look on his face, Colin cheerfully explained, "We'd thought we'd give it a go!"  
  
Ron, having put up with the rest of the clowns who had shown up, had acquired a new level of patience. Also, there was still the faint flicker of hope that they might be at least partially decent at the game...  
  
"If you can get a goal in past Ron, then you'll do." Harry informed them, as Ginny tossed the quaffle to Colin, who caught it keenly.  
  
Ron was ready and waiting. The Creevy brothers were approaching their target in a rather straight line. Ron snorted silently; he had grown used to these "tactics."  
  
However, he was astonished when suddenly, and unexpectedly, with no signal whatsoever, Colin decided to chuck the quaffle at Dennis. Dennis swerved suddenly due to the extra weight in his hands. Within a blink of the eye, Dennis had chucked the flying ball forwards as if it was a hot coal in his hands. The ball glided gracefully though the air and into a hoop.  
  
Harry and Ginny clapped enthusiastically. Ron, however, was not convinced it had been anything more than co-incidence.  
  
"Let's try that again!" he called, feeling violated by the invasion of his hoops.  
  
"Yes! Let's!" called Dennis, excited at his victory.  
  
Harry, also unsure whether their goal had been slip or skill, decided to humour Ron's request.  
  
The Creevys retreated to a reasonable distance, and came at Ron again. This time he was prepared for them. However, since Colin's hands had clammed with nervousness, failed to pass to his brother. Still expecting a sudden change in direction at the last second, Ron moved to guard the hoop which Dennis was flying towards. Suddenly Colin burst forwards, seemingly out of control. However, at the last moment, he gave the quaffle the tiniest of pushes, dropping it through the bright circle.  
  
"Two in a row!" Harry applauded. "I guess you'll have to do... Welcome to the team!"  
  
His voice was enthusiastic, but Ron recognised the pained expression that Harry's face revealed. He also knew the meaning behind the dark look Ginny and he had received.  
  
"Let's go back to the castle, and grab some dinner." Ginny suggested. There was much agreement from all.  
  
  
  
When Ron and Harry returned from their evening meal, they sat down in their usual chairs, where Hermione was waiting for them. Ron was still trying to avoid and ignore her and this, in Harry's opinion, made idle chatter rather confusing. It was like trying to hold two conversations at once, about the same subject, and whenever Ron wanted to reply to Hermione, he'd tell his response to Harry. However, this childish behaviour slightly amused Harry, and he was sure they'd make up and become friends again sooner or later. Unfortunately, under this unnecessary strain, the conversation quickly dwindled into silence.  
  
It was Hermione who broke the invisible glass wall of awkwardness.  
  
"Somehow, we need to get into this gift chamber!"  
  
Harry had been expecting this topic of discussion to occur, and so had already spent a good while thinking about it himself.  
  
"But what if it's dangerous?" he considered slowly. "What do we do once we get there? Plus... we have no idea where it is."  
  
"Not true!" Hermione corrected him. "Remember what Malfoy said on the train journey? Something about it being installed under his common room."  
  
Ron was now too interested to pretend that he hadn't heard Hermione. "We could use the Polyjuice potion again!"  
  
Harry nodded in agreement at this idea, and looked at Hermione. However, she wasn't convinced.  
  
"No – not this time." She sighed. "Malfoy's being way too careful. I've been watching him – he's constantly drugging Crabbe and Goyle's drinks with the Autohedros potion. The last thing we'd want would be to snap back into ourselves in the middle of the Slytherin common room."  
  
"What if we just didn't accept his drinks?" Harry asked.  
  
"Harry..." Ron laughed, "When have you ever seen Crabbe or Goyle refuse a drink? Malfoy would instantly know something was wrong!"  
  
"There must be a possible way of doing this..." Hermione commented pensively. "I mean... Malfoy's good at all this sneaking around stuff, and he's an expert at creeping people out... But he's not invincible, and I will get him. He's gonna pay for what he's doing."  
  
Harry knew better than to argue with his friend when she was so bent on revenge. "We'll just have to watch out." he warned. "People will be acting strangely because of this 'gift'. We should all probably cut each other some slack."  
  
However, whilst he was still thinking of an alternate entrance into the Slytherin complex, he was interrupted by Ginny's angry yells from across the room.  
  
"Don't make me.... eughhh... get off me!" she was yelling.  
  
Instantly, Ron span around, and he didn't like what he was seeing. He didn't like it all.  
  
Dean was furiously grabbing at Ginny, trying to kiss her. "You're so... you're..."  
  
However, Harry never found out what Ginny was, as with a violent flick of Ron's wand, Dean was smashed away from her into the wall. He fell down, stunned.  
  
Harry looked at Ron. "Wasn't that overkill?"  
  
Ron wasn't listening. Instead, he had walked over to Ginny, and was holding her, in a manner most different to Dean's. "Are you OK?" he asked, concerned.  
  
"Yeah..." she replied, blatantly lying. "But... it's just..."  
  
Ron looked at her, with care and concern in his eyes. Ginny recognised this gesture of brotherly love, and smiled. "Thanks."  
  
Hermione, however, was attempting to revive Dean, whilst frowning at Ron. "Wasn't that a bit much. I mean, considering what Malfoy's doing..."  
  
Ron was not impressed by her chastisement. "No one touches my sister like that."  
  
"But..." Hermione started to protest.  
  
An argument. The first time she'd spoken to Ron for a day, and it was an argument.  
  
Ron cut her complaints short, however. "No one touches my sister like that." he repeated.  
  
Harry, recognising the effects of Malfoy's weapon was alarmed. "We need to warn everyone about what this 'gift' is capable of, before anyone else gets hurt!"  
  
"No!" Hermione objected almost instantly. "We don't know what else this Slytherin's Gift can do. If Malfoy knows we've discovered its first use, he might move onto using it for something far more dangerous..."  
  
Harry saw the logic in this and agreed with a nod. "What do you think, Ron?"  
  
Ron wasn't listening.  
  
"No one touches my sister like that." 


	10. Encounters, and the Lack of Them

Disclaimer: Like none of the characters here are mine, and most are the intellectual right of JK Rowling. In fact, even the ones I make up eventually own me anyway...  
  
Authorial Note: Thanks again to all my reviewers! You make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside with your niceness (urgh. I hate the word nice... not because I'm not nice... it's just the English-student attitude permenently burnt into my mind.) I apologise if this is a "shorty", but I didn't really have much to say at this point in time, and as one of my anonymous (*cough*Next Tangent*cough) said, it wouldn't make sense to have all the action in like... one week. But then again, I don't want it to drag, and not make sense... so yah. Enjoy!  
  
Next-tangent - Welcome back from the land of the beaver. Or something. I dunno. HAI. I shall consider your advice carefully, before ignoring it totally ;).  
  
tris2 - Thanks for you continued cheering on of my story! It really makes my day! (no exaggeration... I lead a rather boring life.) I hope you like this one too :p  
  
Rhyanna - I'm glad you enjoy my cliffies (or at least hate them properly.) The funny thing is, in the last chapter, I didn't plan to end on a "cliffie", it just kinda happened. It's now hard-coded into my system, but as sure as 5 + 1 = 4, I'll try and make at least ONE chapter in this story that leaves everything all nice and tied off... oh who am I kidding! Glad you're liking (or have the tact not to insult) this so far!  
  
LuciusAndSnapeRock - Thanks for the compliment on my last chapter! I'm very sorry that this is a short one, too.  
  
yellowpages - Keep reading, and I'm sure I'll be able to fit more about him in sooner or later! Thanks for reading!  
  
Phire Phoenix - Thanks for the compliment and your continued intrest! And yes... everyone should know to stay away from Ron's sister... though I wonder if Ron ever got romantically attached, would Ginny have her revenge, hmmm?  
  
Innocent Little Birdie - Thanks for reading so far! And I'm not sadistic... ok. Maybe I am. But my cliffie's aren't that bad are they? :p  
  
baby chaos - I've updated... though this doesn't count as soon! Thanks for reading and reviewing!  
  
  
  
This chapter is dedicated to Laura's internet cable, as if she's reading this, it means that it is no longer hidden.  
  
  
  
Chapter 10 – Encounters, and the lack of them  
  
  
  
"No one touches my sister like that."  
  
Ron was adamant in his protests. With his eyes slightly glazed, he turned towards the shocked Dean, who was propped up against the wall. Ron slowly raised his wand again. Hermione, however, did not need to resort to magic. She took a couple of bounding strides from across the room, raised her hand. She brought it down. The palm collided majestically with the side of Ron's cheek. The crisp echoes of the slap bounced around the room gleefully.  
  
"Oh, snap out of it!"  
  
Ron was taken aback, and suddenly very conscious again. He flushed a strange red - a mixture of embarrassment and indignation. He scowled, and Hermione raised her hand once again.  
  
"Stop!" Ron cried out. "I'm over it!"  
  
Hermione lowered her hand, slightly disappointed.  
  
This was Ron's cue to leave. Huffing to himself, he furiously made his way out of the room, and began his valiant efforts to avoid Hermione.  
  
Life at Hogwarts went on as usual, and as far as Harry could tell, no more attacks were made on members of the Gryffindor house using Slytherin's Gift. In fact, the long periods of silence that he was exposed to, due to Hermione and Ron's fall out, made Harry rather nervous. He kept on expecting sparks to start flying over his head if he turned away for even half a second when their lessons forced them into close proximity.  
  
"Hmm... I'm hungry. Do we have to go to the next lesson?" Ron wondered aloud, as the bell rang signifying the end of break, on their first Wednesday back.  
  
"I think we'd better..." Harry replied, readjusting his stance to remove a rather pointy claw of a statue that was poking into his back. "After all, it's our first lesson of this subject..."  
  
"Oh?" Ron asked, now looking at the brown door in front of him with mild interest. "What subject is it?"  
  
"Something like, 'Theory of Magic.'" Harry informed him. Hermione, standing on the opposite side of the corridor, shuffled her feet at something.  
  
But Ron, using alternate vocabulary, decided to ask to Harry elaborate more on the exact nature of the subject.  
  
"Five points off Gryffindor! I will not have language like that outside my classroom!"  
  
The new teacher had arrived, and Ron had evidently not made a good impression on her. She leant her hand on the heavy classroom door and it clicked open. She strolled inside, her black robes trailing behind. Harry wondered if all teachers at Hogwarts received training on how to make their cloaks billow so violently.  
  
"Who is she?" Harry whispered worriedly to Hermione, who had begun to follow her in.  
  
"Don't tell me you've not met Professor Ward yet!" Hermione exclaimed almost scornfully.  
  
But before Harry could ask how, exactly, Hermione knew her, the class was beckoned inside.  
  
They all took seats behind their mahogany desks in the chapel-like classroom. With the over-enthusiasm common in all newly qualified teachers, Professor Ward strolled down the aisle.  
  
"In these lessons," she began shaking a board-ruler threateningly, "I intend to teach you the under-researched workings and complex mechanisms of magic."  
  
The class listened in silence, still afraid to test the patience of this unknown entity.  
  
"Unlike simpler subjects, where the only skill involved is the mixing of coloured fluids and the weighing of powders, this will require your full attention. I do not expect you all to understand everything I teach straight away, but if it is evident that you have not been listening, then I shall not jump to accommodate your lack of common sense."  
  
Suddenly, she flicked the ruler outwards, and pointed it at Seamus who was about to mutter something to Dean. "You! What did I just say?"  
  
"Umm, something about... powder weighing?" the nervous pupil suggested.  
  
There was a fatal breath of silence.  
  
"I have not been impressed by this class so far today." The angered teacher declared. "And you're the Gryffindors too, right? Hmm... I expected better of you."  
  
Whilst this chastise dulled the mood of the entire class and as usual, it seemed to strike Hermione the hardest, even though she was in no way responsible. A frown imposed upon her face, she sat up straight, brandishing her feather pen keenly.  
  
The lesson rolled on, and it was as confusing as promised. In fact, confusing was an understatement. It was downright bizarre. Dudley, when pressured by a visiting aunt, had once described this atrocious sounding muggle lesson called, "Physics." Harry could see the similarity.  
  
It had been going down hill all the way, since the teacher had printed the words, "What is Magic?" on the board, and that had been pretty much the first thing she had done. Ron shook and moaned quietly, as he copied down the third formula given in fifteen minutes. Harry was forced to think very carefully to get his head around the topic. Hermione, however, was positively revelling in the chaos, taking notes furiously, and letting out periodic gasps of comprehension. Harry noticed that for Ron, this merely added insult to injury.  
  
When at last their torment was over, the three left the classroom in bamboozled silence. Almost instantly, Hermione broke away to location unknown, leaving Ron to express his disgust to Harry.  
  
"Gah! How could anyone teach a subject like that? It's... evil!"  
  
Harry laughed, as they walked along the corridor. "It kinda makes sense though, when you think about it..."  
  
"No!" Ron insisted, "It does not! It's... numbers.... with letters... and lines... in funny places!"  
  
Harry thought about this for a moment. "Weren't you taught maths before you went to Hogwarts? I mean, at your first school."  
  
Ron blushed slightly. "I wasn't paying attention at the time..."  
  
Harry was just about to chuckle at this too, when he came across a sight that was guaranteed to wipe the smile off his face.  
  
Snape was leaning furtively against a wall along the corridor, turned away from them, his hands concealed by his wide cloak. However, upon hearing their arrival, there was a frantic shuffle followed by a high-pitched shatter. Snape span around furiously to face them, a rather familiar smell now being emitted from underneath his feet.  
  
"Potter? Weasley? What are you doing here?"  
  
"Going to lunch..." Harry started to explain, but seeing the white fury burning across Snape's face, was forced to add, "Sir."  
  
"Well..." Snape snapped. "Go to lunch elsewhere!"  
The was something distinctively odd about the way he was neither focusing on Harry or Ron. Usually, when confronted by Snape, Harry's eyes would lock into an inescapable hatred with his.  
  
"There's another lunch hall?" Ron asked.  
  
"I will not be spoken to that by a student!" Snape barked, dropping his usual sarcasm. "Ten points from... umm... ten points off..."  
  
Snape couldn't find the word to finish his sentence. After a couple more attempts, he eventually gave up.  
  
"Just get out of my sight." he hissed.  
  
It was only when Snape's command had been readily carried out that Harry recognised the smell.  
  
"Ron," he commented, "I think that the thing he dropped, the thing in his hands... it was what I made in potions last week."  
  
"Really?" Ron was slightly curious about the subject of substances with the ability to incapacitate his least favourite teacher. "What was it called?"  
"I dunno." Frowned Harry. "He didn't tell us."  
  
  
  
The rest of the day's lessons were uneventful, but when they returned to the common room, slightly tired due to an evening session of quidditch training, Hermione was not in her usual chair. In fact, Hermione was not to be seen at all.  
  
About two hours after they'd sat down to procrastinate their homework with casual chatter, she clambered through the portrait hole, slightly dishevelled.  
  
"Where've you been?" Asked Harry as she passed by. "The library?"  
"No," Hermione yawned. "I'm tired. Going to bed..."  
  
Without any further explanation, she disappeared once more. Ron dropped his quill and sighed.  
  
"Bah!" he exclaimed, "She's so... so..."  
  
"Hermionish?" Harry suggested.  
  
"Yes! Exactly!" Ron agreed.  
  
"You really need to talk to her..." Harry worried, concerned that Slytherin's Last Gift may have taken its hold on both of them.  
  
"I know, I know..." Ron replied mournfully. "It's just sometimes... she's as irritating as a sunburnt neck would be to a giraffe!"  
  
Wondering whether or not Ron had a dictionary or list of stupid expressions and phrases which he was slowly going through, Harry eventually retired to the boy's dormitary. Unfortunately, he did not have a restful night's sleep... 


	11. Disappearances and Research

Authorial Notes: Hey! More fic for you... I promise, it'll get exciting soon. I had to force myself to get this one out, as if when I get to a difficult (read: nothing much happens) chapter, and pause, then I loose my train of thoughts. The challenge so far has been keeping it fresh, and not too repetitive, whilst not skipping huge periods of time, which wouldn't make that much sense, considering the constant attack I put my (disclaimer: they're actually JK Rowling's) characters under.  
  
  
  
tris2 - Am I that cryptic? Maybe I am... Am I as cryptic as that person with the thing in the place? (you don't say!)... Thanks for reading, and please (read: if you don't, I'll nag you forever) keep on reviewing! :D  
  
Cat Silver - I'm glad you're enjoying this so far! And you seem to have gotten into the spirit of the proper way of reviewing... hurray for death threats! :D  
  
Rhyanna - What can I say? Maths was lonely without you today. Hilarious ineptitudes just aren't that funny when you're not there outdo me at them! Thanks for reading so far! I still reckon the only way I can hold your attention for more than 2 seconds is by writing fanfiction :p.  
  
Phire Phoenix - Thanks for your reivew. :p! And also, thanks for reading so far! If I was reading my story, I'd have given up halfway through the first sentence ;)  
  
  
  
Dedication (this may not make sense to most): This chapter is dedicated to the winner of the war in TSH! Not that I'm stirring or anything...  
  
  
  
Chapter 11 – Disappearances and Research  
  
  
  
The sheer magnitude of the force which cracked across Harry's forehead thrust him violently into consciousness. The lightening shaped scar felt as if it had burst into flames, a white hot filament burning deep into his skull.  
  
"It was a trap!"  
  
The cold hating words rebounded around his head, each echo enhancing the pain. Voldemort was angry. Very angry. Angry and betrayed.  
  
Despite the excruciating agony, Harry felt somewhat relieved when the nature of his hurt swept across him. Anger would just that Voldemort had somehow been thwarted, and this was always a good thing, in Harry's experience. Still, the Dark Lord's annoyance was causing Harry the worst pain he had experienced since his possession the previous summer.  
  
His temples throbbing, Harry rolled over onto his side. He was not sure whether it was tiredness that had dragged him back down to sleep, or pain that had forced him into unconsciousness, but when he work up in the morning, the throbbing had all but evaporated, and the memory of the experience pushed back into the inconsequential recesses of his mind.  
  
  
  
Having escaped Care of Magical Creatures with the correct number of fingers remaining, and having managed to evade Snape's curses, Harry arrived at transfiguration. However, instead of the door being wide open, ready to accept the class, it was locked shut, a green inked note scrawled on yellow parchment attached by a thin nail.  
  
"Professor McGonagall is currently unable to teach this morning, and would be greatly obliged if her Sixth Year class would continue researching into their coursework in the library  
  
-A.P.W.B.D  
  
  
  
Grunting quietly at the thought of having to make the tiresome journey to the library, whilst lugging his heavy sack of books down the corridors, Harry turned around and got five steps before he was run into by Hermione, who was hurrying in her usual fashion.  
  
"Where are you going?" She asked, confused.  
  
Harry explained about McGonagall's absence, and Hermione looked much more nervous than he had expected.  
  
"Don't worry…" Harry offered in comfort, "It's just one transfiguration lesson. We'll catch up."  
  
"No…" Hermione interrupted his well-meant consolations, "It's not that… it's just… why would Professor McGonagall be away? It doesn't make any sense: the only time I can ever remember her taking time off was when she was attacked by those aurors last summer."  
  
Harry was about to express his thoughts of the situation when the two of them were approached by Snape, who was obviously returning from the staff room, to the potion's complex.  
  
"Potter!"  
  
Harry's heart sunk at his bad luck. Was this deranged potion's master stalking him, or something?  
  
"What are you doing here?" The tall dark figure snapped.  
  
"There's been a room change, sir," Harry started to explain, "Because professor McGonagall isn't in..."  
  
Just like Hermione, who Snape was still totally ignoring, Snape also reacted much more aggressively than Harry had expected. His eyes narrowed rapidly, and in a low voice he hissed, "Five points of Gryffindor for loitering in the corridors. You should learn, like all the other students have somehow managed to, that when there is a room change, you proceed to the new location immediately, instead of dawdling like a lost child. Now, be gone!"  
  
Snape swept away, and Harry didn't particularly feel like challenging him. The irritation of five points unjustly taken was not as great as the severe hatred he felt growling around the pit of his stomach every time he was forced to look at his face. He turned to Hermione, who was now staring intently at a portrait on the wall. The portly woman within seemed to be blushing at all this extra attention. Harry tapped his friend on the shoulder, and she jumped.  
  
"What?" She demanded.  
  
"Nothing..." Harry was taken aback at this unexpected hostility. "It's just, we'd better get to the library."  
  
Hermione eventually nodded in agreement, and the two moved off.  
  
  
  
For the first part of the lesson, Harry scoured through the transfiguration section, searching in vain for a book on the animagical arts. The best he had been able to find was a dusty tome of its history, which was bound curiously in plum-patterned wallpaper. Occasionally, he glanced over at Hermione to see what she was studying, but most of the time, she seemed to be scan-reading a blank sheet of paper.  
  
Harry cursed silently. Why would there need to be so many laws and restrictions about becoming an animagi? The details of the spell or charm required to make change were so obscure that practically no one would be able to actually perform it. His valiant dreams of super-heroism were drowning under a heaped pile of irrelevant books. He was considering changing over to the other task, when a true voice from within his mind reminded him that his father had been able to do it... Sirius had been able to do it.  
  
Spurned by this, hope fused back into him, with a fresh idea. Summoning his courage for a task both perilous and difficult, he rose out of his hard wooden chair, and approached Madam Pince, the much enduring librarian.  
  
"Yes?" she sighed impatiently, as she carefully unloaded books from a shelf into an ornate box at her feet.  
  
"Umm..." Harry thought aloud, searching for the best way to phrase his question, "Please could I go into the forbidden section?"  
  
Instantly, Madam Pince span around, leaving the book in her hand on the shelf. She studied Harry carefully, as if expecting him to suddenly whip out his wand and curse her.  
  
"Do you have a signed slip of permission for a specific book?" she asked coldly, having finally determined that Harry was not a Death Eater in disguise.  
  
"Well no..." Harry replied, and seeing the librarian's furious glare of shock added, "I just wanted to browse!"  
  
"Oh, you just wanted to browse, did you?" asked Pince in a voice saturated with dripping sweetness.  
  
"Yes..." Harry confirmed, now unsure.  
  
"Just a quick flick through the most dangerous tomes known to man?" Pince asked, "Perhaps thumb through a few death spells – skim read a few pages of the darkest most evil of magics..."  
  
Harry, was unnerved by the severity of this sarcasm. Feeling that a simple "no" would've sufficed, he backed away slowly.  
  
"Umm... Never mind." he declared slowly before quickly adding, "It doesn't matter, Madam."  
  
"Good." Madam Pince declared, he vulture-like features receding from anger into victory. She stooped down to pick up the box of ancient manuals at her feet, and wandered away.  
  
Harry returned back to the transfiguration section, and continued his search for information in vain.  
  
  
  
That lunchtime, however, Minerva McGonagall returned. Harry was on his way through the entrance hall and on into the main dining area when the huge oak doors of the castle flew open. A blast of cold area accompanied the tartan-clad teacher. Her robes were slightly torn, and she was holding a green lump of meat, which Harry recognised to be dragon, against the side of her head.  
  
"Albus!" she instantly called in an uncharacteristically hoarse voice.  
  
Both Harry and Hermione span around, and sure enough, Dumbledore was descened gracefully down the think staircase in the middle of the room. He raised his hand in greeting.  
  
McGonagall however was deathly serious. "What I need to say had best be discussed in your office." The injured transfiguration teacher glanced sideways for a split second at the two Gryffindor students.  
  
Dumbledore nodded solemnly in understanding, and they quietly slipped off through a side passage, mumbling under their breath, leaving Harry and Hermione shrouded in inexplicable mystery.  
  
  
  
The strains of classes, Quidditch, coursework and quarrelling friends kept Harry in a constant stupor of tiredness. It was the frequent promises of reconciliation from Ron which allowed him to cope with Hermione's, now acidic, quips about him.  
  
About a week after Professor McGonagall's brief absence, Harry was engaged in the task of writing up a project for potions, in the Gryffindor common room. Ron had already gone to bed, exhausted by Colin and Dennis' tactics. Harry still wasn't sure if it was luck or skill which made the combination of the two Creevys so formidable, but he hoped that whatever it was, it would still be there on the rapidly approaching Halloween. He rejoiced at the fact that Ginny was showing consistent skill at the art of chasing, and silently wished he could perhaps clone her several times to fill up his team.  
  
Although the Quidditch match was just over a month away, girls from the lower year had already began to flock forwards to swoon over the captain's badge. When he had to turn down the third disappointed second year in a row, he wondered why he had not been informed of this effect by either of the previous captains. However, his affairs with Cho last year had dulled his taste of relationships greatly, as well as shaking his confidence.  
  
Harry was just adding the conclusive paragraph to the lengthy write-up when a dishevelled Hermione crawled through the portrait hole. Harry smiled at the sight of his usually neat friend, now a complete mess. He beckoned her over, and she sat down next to him. Instantly, she pulled out a comb, and began correcting her hair.  
  
"You gonna tell me where you've been?" Harry asked.  
  
Hermione smiled cheekily. "Not right now." Then, she dropped her voice into a lower more sombre tone, "Tell me Harry," she asked, "When was the last time you noticed anything odd going on?"  
  
"You mean... like as if they were being affected by this gift-thingy?" Harry asked, slightly puzzled at the generality of her question.  
  
"Yeah. Like that." Hermione replied simply.  
  
"Well... one of the year nines DID almost curse another into oblivion a few days ago... but I think that was due to one of his friends replacing his homework with one of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Exploding Scrolls."  
  
Hermione frowned at the influence that two troublesome twins still exerted on the school, even now they had left.  
  
"So..." she asked, "Would you say that attacks have stopped since about ten days ago?"  
  
"Since you slapped Ron?" Harry asked, the memory popping into his head.  
  
"Oh, I was acting purely under my own control when I did that..." Hermione reflected icily. "I was saving HIM from the powers of Slytherin, remember?"  
  
"And enjoying yourself whilst doing it." Harry muttered under his breath, before adding more seriously. "But that's the thing with Slytherin's Gift, isn't it? The device itself, whatever it is, only needs to affect one person, and its effects can spread to all those around."  
  
Hermione hummed pessimistically, signifying that she had taken this into account. Harry rolled up his parchment, having decided he'd do it when the teacher wasn't looking in another lesson.  
  
"So, there have been no attacks since then?" Hermione asked again, discussing her logic with herself, more than with Harry.  
  
"I guess not." Harry replied, simply.  
  
"Did anything happen that day?" Hermione wondered to herself, before repeating the statement as a question to Harry.  
  
Memories flooded back into Harry's mind, and his heart nearly exploded at the shocking realisation that he had forgotten. "Voldemort!" he exclaimed, and Hermione twitched a quarter of an inch. "He was very very angry about something... my scar was hurting."  
  
Hermione frowned. "That's bad. Very bad."  
  
"Are you suggesting there is a tie between Voldemort and this 'Gift' of Malfoy, and that because Voldemort was distracted elsewhere, he hasn't had time to do... whatever it is he is doing here?"  
  
"But that wouldn't make sense!" Hermione exclaimed, irritated at the lack of an obvious solution to this puzzle. "I mean, why on earth would Voldemort want to waste his time pranking angsty teens?"  
  
"Don't forgot, McGonagall came in with a black eye that day..." Harry reminded her.  
  
"Yes..." Hermione recalled. "She must've been doing work for the Order."  
  
"And didn't you see a Death Eater around these parts a few weeks ago?" Harry asked, slowly.  
  
"Indeed." Hermione agreed, before proclaiming, "He must have an ulterior plan for what's going on around here."  
  
Harry nodded in agreement. When he eventually retreated to his bedchamber, he did not sleep easily, his mind swamped with thoughts about Voldemort and his dark designs for him and his fellow students. 


	12. That's Just Not Quidditch!

**Authorial Note:** Sorry about the long long update time, but I was too busy stressing about the GCSEs, and, ahem, other things, and I kinda got writers' block. But I've forced myself to write this chapter, in the hopes that my inspiration will once more be unstoppered, and I'll have more entertainment to offer you all soon! I apologise if this is too long... or too short. As I said, I had to force it out, and when I eventually got going, I had fun writing it! So, I thank you all for being so patient, and I hope you enjoy this!  
  
Tris2 – I actually DO have answers for all these questions, but due to my writing style, my answers always tend to give more questions... and that's without really answering the question. If that makes sense. And, btw, ow! (and also to Rhyanna, who was reading over Tris2's shoulder: update TSH in your own time; we can wait!)  
  
Phire Phoenix – I'm flattered that you're enjoying this fic! And yes, actually, when I think about it, it is getting angstier... but then again, so am I, so the circle of life is completed, I guess.  
  
Cat Silver – You spoke too soon, I'm afraid; sorry about the wait! I'm glad you're enjoying it, though!  
  
LuciusAndSnapeRock – I intrigued you! Yay! Here's some more for ya'!  
  
Next-tangent – Consider yourself irritated! Here's some more of the accursed thing!  
  
**Dedication:** I dedicate this chapter to Chris, because, even if he doesn't want to, he'll have to read it anyway. And by dedicating it to him, if he fails to read it, it'll make him feel hyper guilty! Muahahaha! I wuv Emotional Blackmail.  
  
**Chapter 12 – That's Just Not Quidditch!**  
  
Ron allowed the cool autumn air to work its way through his red hair, as he walked down the corridor from the lofty owlery. Pigwidgeon, as usual, had been happy to see him. He had expressed his delight in the customary way, flying in dizzying circles around Ron's head, and aggravating nearby barn owls. By the time Ron's small owl had finished performing its numerous feats of acrobatism, Ron had almost forgotten why he had gone in there in the first place – to send a letter to his family.  
But now, on his way back to the dormitory, the effects of the amusing, although irritating, antics of his bird were wearing thin. Ron had to do something – something about Hermione. She had been one of his best friends ever since the fateful day in first year when Quirrel had released a troll, yet now she was avoiding him as if he carried some invisible disease. Despite being romantically uninterested, he still cared very much for her, and although his pride begged to differ, he missed her superior chastises, and concerned comments.  
"Oh well," thought Ron, disheartened, "At least I have a good Quidditch match to look forwards to. I can't wait to see Malfoy's face when we thrash 'em Slytherins again..."  
  
"Wakey- wakey!"  
Harry groaned, and turned over, twisting himself and his bed covers into a bizarre human roll.  
"What?" He uttered slowly from underneath a pillow.  
"Quidditch!"  
It was Ron.  
"It's a sport – yeah." Harry mumbled. "But what does that have to do with you waking me up in the middle of the night?"  
"It's Saturday morning; it's time to practise!" Ron explained, slightly impatient.  
"'Morning?'" Harry inquired, "Is that some form of regional dialect for 'middle of the night?'"  
But then, rather than holding up his end of the argument, Harry decided to hoist himself out of bed. He too had a deep desire to beat the Slytherins, and perhaps get even for whatever they were up to with their "gift."  
He pulled on his quidditch robes, which had been strewn across his chest of possessions, and allowed the red and gold fabric to slide over him. Despite the way it rested around his shoulders, swaying heavily, the quidditch robes were enchanted to be as light as a silk dress. The warm folds of the cloth moved rapidly, allowing Harry almost complete freedom of movement; a thing necessary for a quick-reflexed seeker such as himself. Ron was already draped in identical robes, and was half way to the door of the dormitory before he turned around to beckon his friend onwards.  
"C'mon then!"  
Harry laughed, and ran a couple of paces to catch up with Ron. Together they walked down to the pitch, discussing tactics, and refreshing themselves on memories of hilarious incidents in the past.  
  
The rest of the team stumbled wearily onto the pitch a few minutes after Harry and Ron had dragged the crate of balls onto the edge of the sandy floor. They were careful not to tip it over and spill the precious balls inside as no quidditch matches had yet been played that year, and so Harry was almost certain that the enchantments confining the balls to the pitch had not been strengthened. He was in no hurry to test this theory; if he released the snitch now, or even worse, let loose the bludgers, the balls would be free to dart off to anywhere! Today, they were only going to use the quaffle.  
However, the team had barely shifted their legs over their broomsticks, when their eyes were assaulted by an all too frequent sight. The Slytherins, drabbed in casual gear, were snaking onto the pitch.  
"Shove over, Potter!" Malfoy sneered, stroking his serpent-shaped Quidditch badge.  
"What?!" Harry was perplexed to what Malfoy wanted with his pitch.  
Harry himself had booked, and so it was clearly the Griffendors' turn to practise! All reservations against playing which had been harboured by him whilst snuggled in warm bedsheets had long since evaporated. There was no way he was going to let Malfoy and his snob-squad steal their valuable practice hours.  
Malfoy began to explain the situation with a smug look upon his face. "We have a signed permission slip..."  
"...from Snape." Harry finished bitterly. The Slytherins had never been particularly original in their schemes.  
"That's right Potter!" Malfoy exclaimed, and his cronies giggled again, "So you finally managed to learn something here - other than how to show off your fame, of course."  
Harry was getting quite aggravated now, but he wasn't ready to give one of his worst enemies the pleasure of knowing that. Casually, he lifted one of his legs over his slick Firebolt, and turned to face the group of Slytherins.  
"I think you'll find Snape has had a mix up his time-table. The pitch is ours right now and I have a practice to run. So I'd appreciate it if you would kindly get the hell out of my sight."  
Malfoy wasn't ready to take such cheek from the son of a mudblood. Snarling maliciously, he span around and kicked over the crate of balls. There was the slight tinkling sound of something fragile breaking, and the golden snitch slowly rose up into the air, an aura of anticipation surrounding it.  
"You albino monkey!" Ron exclaimed, jumping forwards in order to pin the slower-moving bludgers to the ground before they could cause any real damage.  
"You know the rules, Potter!" Malfoy laughed, "If the all balls aren't returned at the end of a practice, the team's banned from playing until they are!"  
Harry jumped into the air, almost laughing himself. "Malfoy, I'll be able to catch it in a second. You're just wasting your time."  
"You won't catch it," Malfoy declared, lowering his broom, "Not if I catch it first!"  
Like a bullet fired from a gun, Malfoy shot up into the air and towards the snitch, but the elusive golden demon flickered before their eyes, and darted away. Harry instantly joined Malfoy in pursuit of it. The cool air rushing against his eyes made them water as he flew upwards.  
Malfoy's blond hair was blowing viciously as he chased the tiny flick of gold lost a in a haystack of grey clouds. Harry's eyes narrowed, and he felt his right hand drift towards his wand in his pocket, as his left remained steadily on the broom. There was no telling what Malfoy might do if he got the Snitch first; he could simply make it disappear, along with Gryffindor's hopes of ever winning the Quidditch cup – or even being allowed onto the pitch!  
"Stupid rule," Harry muttered, as he lunged forwards. The powerful accelerating force of his world-class broom coursed through him, and once again he was alive.  
Within ten seconds, Harry was neck to neck with Malfoy, and the taunting snitch was dancing just a couple of meters in front of them. Harry noticed that Malfoy was also flying with one hand in his pocket...  
"It's almost a shame!" Malfoy was laughing, "I was almost looking forwards to beating the Gryffindor team!"  
"This isn't over yet." Harry's words were almost drowned out by the rushing current of wind enveloping him and his blond-haired adversary.  
But his words were ironically correct. As the two seekers let go of their undrawn wands, and stretched out their arms to snatch at their goal, the treacherous golden globe suddenly changed direction. Instinctively, they followed, but without the confinement from the usual charms that would surround the pitch in season, the snitch flew towards the castle itself.  
Biting his lips in concentration, Harry swerved through the turrets. Malfoy, blocked from his target, was floating above. His arms were carefully placed around his broom to avoid grazing from the hard granite rock. Harry however was swinging from side to side at a frantic pace. He knew that one slip would be the end of his broom, or even worse, his own life; but the Quidditch cup was too important a thing to lose before a match had even been played! Zig-zagging manically, the snitch teased him by hovering just a few inches away from his face. Harry dared not to let go of his Firebolt for even a spit second. Malfoy too noticed the close proximity of the snitch to Harry, but hid his concern behind his usual icy expression.  
Fortunately, the winged ball soon came to the end of the battlements, and span out into safer air. Harry darted forwards to catch it, but Malfoy had already drawn his wand.  
"Stupefy!"  
A bolt of red jetted past Harry, who swerved, narrowly avoiding it. The foul stench of ozone filled his nostrils. Malfoy was playing dirty.  
Unfortunately, the distraction of the spell had given the snitch another head-start.  
Harry shot towards it, but had Malfoy once again entered the race.  
"Incendio!" he cried. A jet of flame licked around the twigs at the end of Harry's broom for a couple of seconds, before the anti-flame charms surrounding the broom put it out.  
"Nice shot," Harry mocked, pleased that his now-deceased godfather hadn't spared the broom any trimmings.  
"What do you mean?" Malfoy replied coolly, once again neck to neck with Harry. "I was aiming for YOU!"  
The snitch took made another sudden change in direction to dive bomb towards a patch of enchanted large, juicy tomatoes Hagrid had been growing. Something in Malfoy's eyes lit up, and Harry could've practically read his mind.  
Smiling gleefully, with his wand towards the ground, Malfoy incanted, "Surgo!"  
Instantly, the bright red fruity bombs shot upwards. Harry, keeping his eyes on the snitch, used his reflexes to avoid the rising current of tomatoes. The pumpkin sized shiny globules bombed past the two Quidditch players until they reached their climax about twenty feet above them.  
"Is that all you've got, Draco?" Harry asked, sneering at the Slytherin's rarely-used first name.  
Malfoy flicked his wand into the sky, and a hail of sparks burst out of the tip. The field of energy flew into the tomatoes, which were swaying promiscuously in the wind. Instantly, there was chaos. Specks of red burst in all directions, and fell down on top of Harry, splattering his robes. Harry noticed with amusement, as a lump hit his glasses, that the juice bounced off his broom, due to a previously placed impervious charm.  
"A fruit salad," Harry laughed, as he stretched out his hand towards the snitch, which fortunately hadn't been lost in the red hail, "How is that going to stop me from catching this snitch?"  
Malfoy didn't care. No matter what he did now, he already succeeded in disrupting the Gryffindor's Quidditch practice.  
"I wonder what your mudblood girlfriend will think of the smell?" he taunted.  
Harry was confused by this statement at first, but when it's meaning sunk in, he glared angrily at Malfoy. "One, she's not my girlfriend, but two, if you ever call her a mudblood again.. well, we'll soon see if Slytherins have the ability to quickly grow wings in a stressful situation, okay?"  
Malfoy cackled, again, but Harry wasn't listening. He was too busy paying close attention to the Snitch, which had turned 180 degrees. It was bolting towards the castle once again. Harry, praying that his glasses weren't feeling loose, performed a vertical loop, and hurtled off in the same direction. Malfoy turned more slowly to follow suite.  
Suddenly, an idea coursed through the diabolical mind of the Slytherin seeker.  
Laughing maniacally at what he believed was a waste of effort on Harry's behalf, he cried, "Accio Snitch!"  
The effect was instant. Malfoy's wand became a rod of white heat, and he instantly dropped it. He howled in pain, as the anti-cheating-charm took it's toll on his fingers. The wooden stick span through the air below towards the ground, and Harry laughed. Malfoy's honour had been insulted, and now catching the snitch was personal. Instead of nursing his hand, he placed it firmly on the head of his polished Nimbus 2001 to hurtle after Harry and their common goal- the tiny-winged ball.  
The snitch, however, had other plans for them. Buzzing wickedly, it fluttered through a tiny opening in a huge stain-glassed window. Without thinking, Harry drew out his wand to continue the chase.  
"Reducto!"  
There was a shower of multli-coloured glass, accompanied by a satisfying shatter. Fortunately, as he flew through the 'opened' window, he was not cut.  
"Reparo!" Harry called, once he safely through, and the animated figure of a nobleman embossed into the glass looked most indignant. Harry noted with distaste that Malfoy had managed to get through on time.  
The snitch flew down the corridor, and Harry narrowly avoided a rusty- looking halberd lodged in the arms of an evil looking suit of armour. Fortunately, the animated stack of metal jumped out of the way in time, before raising an gauntlet to shake angrily at the careless Quidditch players.  
Harry, still only a couple of feet behind the golden snitch, continued his relentless chase down a steep spiral of stairs, spinning at a breakneck speed. Somehow Malfoy was managing to keep up. Despite all his annoying traits, Malfoy was fairly decent at broom-handling.  
The two boys burst out of bottom of the spiralling stairs, to watch the trickster of a snitch fly towards a black-robed figure. It was the poor theory of magic teacher, Professor Ward. Too stunned by what she was seeing, she made no attempt to stop the two flyers.  
"Bloody hell!" She exclaimed as they shot past her, her red hair ruffled by the violent current of wind in their wake.  
However, when two rampant students had flown out of sight, and she had recovered her composure, under her breath she muttered, "Go Harry!"  
Finally, after plummeting down several more corridors, and staircases, and having knocked over several group of smaller – and therefore obviously inferior – students, the two reached the entrance hall. Hermione was waiting at the bottom for him; news of the flying duo had seemingly spread around the school at an alarming speed. Flying down towards the oak doors of the castle, gravity finally gave Harry the boost he needed. Pulling his broom to a stand still, he swung off it, and dropped five feet. He stretched out his hand, and his fingers grasped around the snitch. At the same time, Hermione, having run over to him also attempted to put her hand around it in case he missed.  
There was a triumphant pause, as Hermione's hand wrapped around his own.  
"There!" he exclaimed, gasping for breath, "Not banned!"  
Unfortunately, Harry's bubble of jubilation was soon popped.  
"Potter! Malfoy!" It was McGonagall. Despite her numerous bandages, she still looked terrifying when in full rage. "Never before have I seen such reckless behaviour from students in this school! I will be deducting 30 points from each house, and both of you will attend a detention presently! And if I ever see such atrocious behaviour again, I will disqualify BOTH your teams from the Quidditch cup, special arrangements or not!"  
Malfoy flushed, and having been rebuked returned down the passage to his common room. Any thoughts of his own Quidditch team, who were probably still waiting for him out on the field, were discarded.  
It was only after McGonagall had hobbled back down a corridor to the staff room that Hermione noticed her hand was still clasped around Harry's. The snitch vibrated feebly within.  
  
The Quidditch practice had continued without Harry. Lead by Ron, the team seemed to be do fine. Sure, the Creevy brothers weren't perfect, and the beaters left something to be desired, but Ron himself and Ginny were alright.  
Actually, when Ron thought about it, the team wasn't doing fine at all. They really really sucked. But perhaps, if they were lucky, when the time came, he'd be able to stop enough goals to give Harry long enough to find the snitch and win the match.  
Discouraged by Harry's absence, the Quidditch players eventually disbanded, and returned to the castle. A new feeling begin to grow inside Ron.  
Cursed jellied eels were wriggling around inside him – he was going to have to talk to Hermione soon. A nasty buzz at the back of his mind whispered dire messages about the numerous hideous curses she could hit him with. But despite the fear of spending the rest of his life as a toadstool, Ron really wanted to get one of his best friend's back.  
Practically drowning in thick gulps of terror, Ron set off to look for Hermione. His search was not in vain, as he quickly found her sitting in a chair in the common room. Harry had evidently gone upstairs to change out of his Quidditch robes.  
"Err... 'mione?" asked Ron quietly, from behind the tall red chair in which Hermione was slumped.  
She did not react at all.  
"Umm... could I have a word with you?" Ron tried. Hermione's fingers twitched slightly, and Ron, fearing a curse, took a step backwards.  
"It's just..."  
Hermione began to hum softly. Ron was determined to get his words through, despite this cold reception. He paused briefly, before bursting into speech.  
"Hermione, just because I don't 'love' you in the exact way you want me to, doesn't mean that I don't love you completely... absolutely, like one hundred percent. OK? You know you've always been one of my best friends, and I don't want to lose that, especially not now, now that... well... because of whatever you-know-who..."  
Ron's words faltered, and there was silence again. Considering his attempt at patching up a dismal failure, he began to move off. Suddenly he was intercepted by something. Hermione had jumped out of her seat, and was now apparently hugging him.  
"Oh Ron!"she sobbed, "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have been such a jerk!"  
Ron, bewildered, replied, "No, no! I should've been more observant... I should've noticed that..."  
"Don't worry!" Hermione replied, almost too quickly. "It's all OK now,"  
  
Harry was reading up on Quidditch tactics on his bed. The sun had faded into darkness and the harmony of evening birds of the evening had been replaced with the occasional hoot of an owl. A whirlwind of thought was coursing through Harry's mind: the excitement of the chase, the evil prospect of a detention and Hermione's hand clasped around on his own. Yes, that pesky thought wouldn't go away. It just didn't seem right; Hermione had always been a close friend to him, and he liked it that way. But her skin against his hand was... well... it wouldn't go away!  
Ron stumbled through the door of the dormitory.  
"We've been here for over five years, and you still haven't got the hang of that step have you?" Harry asked in a quiet voice; Dean, Neville and Seamus seemed to be asleep already.  
"I swear that bump's new!" Ron laughed gently, smiling.  
"Has Hermione gone to bed too?" Harry asked. Asking this question put another wave of fuzzy happiness through him; his two best friends were on speaking terms again!  
"Nope." Ron replied. "She's gone out somewhere, again. I just don't get it..."  
He rolled his eyes, and was about to get into his own bed, when he had an idea.  
"Hey Harry..." he pondered, "What if you used the Marauder's map to see where she's gone to?"  
Overwhelming curiosity overcame the dark haired teenager.  
"Good idea!" he whispered, and reached over to his browning trunk, and pulled a yellow sheet of parchment from it.  
Tapping the blank sheet with his wand he muttered, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."  
Instantly an animated diagram of the castle sprang up, complete with little dots representing the people inside. The two boys lent over to inspect it closely.  
"Hmm..." Ron murmured.  
"I can't see her anywhere." Harry commented.  
  
But then Ron's face suddenly went white. "That's because you're not looking in the right place, mate..."  
He placed a quivering finger onto the map, and Harry read the writings besides it.  
"Hermione Granger. Potions' Cupboard."  
Instantly Harry shot off his bed in rage, still grasping the map in his hand. How could she!?! To think that just a few minutes ago he was considering... well... but now she was with Snape! That slimy, filthy, diabolical, big-nosed grease-head who taunted him in every single lesson was probably running his sallow hands over her that very moment... it didn't bear thinking about!  
Harry ran out of the room, and Ron followed, concerned about his friend.  
"How could she!" Harry cried, as he ran down the stairs. "To think... she'd betray me like this!"  
His thoughts dissolved into incoherent internal ranting as he burst through the door into the common room. Never before in his life had he felt so angry. So hurt.  
He swung open the portrait hole, and dashed down the corridor. Ron followed behind, struggling to keep up.  
Unfortunately, Harry was suddenly stopped by a tall, towering, black object. The Marauder's Map rolled out of his hands onto the floor, and a vicious realisation, both terrifying and relieving hit him. Hermione _had_ been in Snape's office. Snape hadn't. 


End file.
